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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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The first time Keith sees the boy is a brief flash of eye contact through the classroom door before he’d averted his eyes and looked away. Keith glances around the room to see if anyone else had noticed the boy, but he seems to be the only one, so he dismisses it. Probably just someone from another grade going to the washroom or something.

The second time he sees the boy is thirty-two minutes later, when he knocks on the door. Miss Dindial opens the door, ushering him in, and then asks him why he’s come to visit.

“To come to class,” he says simply, hooking his thumbs on his backpack straps. Keith thinks that it’s strange that he still has it on him, since they were a couple hours into the day already. First recess has even passed.

“I have all my students already,” Miss Dindial responds with a furrowed brow. “I think there might have been a mix up.”

“This is the fourth grade class, right?” the boy clarifies, brown eyes wide and a little nervous. “I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t find it earlier. That’s why I’m late.”

Keith thinks back to the way the boy had walked past the classroom earlier. He tries to remember the boy’s expression, but his mind comes up blank.

“It might be best if you just stay here until I get this sorted with the office,” Miss Dindial decided. “Until then, you can grab a seat — oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t get your name!”

“I’m Leandro Agustín Nuñez Carmen Esposita-McClain. But you can call me Lance.”

Ha. L-A-N-C-E. Keith has never met someone who’s name is an acronym before.

Miss Dindal blinks. Then she smiles, eyebrow raising. “Clever. Now go on ahead and sit down, Lance. You can put your bag by your chair. Right now we’re discussing class rules for this year — you haven’t missed much. Now —”

Keith stops listening, going back to staring out the window. Every so often, he glances three rows over to where the boy — Lance —has chosen to sit, watching him diligently writing on a piece of paper. Keith wonders if he’s really taking notes. He doesn’t know any other fourth graders who take notes. He wonders if Lance is one of those brainy, know-it-all teacher’s pets who tattles all the time.

Something tells him he isn’t.

Lance looks up, catching Keith staring. Keith flushes and looks away. He chances another peek, several minutes later, only to find Lance still looking at him. He smiles, wiggling his fingers in a little wave, then goes back to writing. Keith wonders what that means.

When the lunch recess bell finally rings, he scrambles out like everyone else. He looks for Lance on the playground, but doesn’t see him anywhere. He doesn’t see the boy for the rest of the day, actually.

———

The third time he sees the boy is on the bus the next day.

Keith is the first person on the bus, then a group of eighth-graders who pat him on the head before they go sit at the back. After them, usually, is Ethan from sixth grade. He’s a butthead who always starts fights when no one’s looking and then gets Keith in trouble for it later. Keith hates him. But instead of turning left on Ethan’s street, today, the bus turns right, onto an unpaved road leading to the more rural areas. Keith’s never been down there before.

The bus goes down the road for ten minutes before stopping at an old, run-down house, paint peeling around the edges. It’s the new boy — Lance — who waits at the curb, nervously picking at the ratty sleeve of his shirt. He boards the bus with his head down, mumbling a thanks to the driver before glancing up to find a seat.

When he makes eye contact with Keith, his whole face lights up. He waves excitedly, moving forward, put he pauses suddenly before he sits down, suddenly shy and unsure.

“Um. Hello. I’m in your class, my name’s —”

The bus lurches forward, sending Lance tumbling, right on top of Keith, squishing him into the window.

“Oof,” Keith exhales, but doesn’t shove Lance off of him. He’s not sure why. That would be his usual move.

“Sorry! Dios, I’m so sorry!” Lance squeaks, scrambling up. He kneels on the seat next to Keith, but doesn’t go to a different seat. This pleases Keith, for some reason.

“‘S’okay,” he assures. “You’re basically a feather, anyway.”

Lance giggles, some of the nervousness leaving his posture. Keith thinks that he’d like to make it all go away.

“I’m Lance,” he says sticking out his hand.

“I know,” Keith replies, shaking it.

Lance laughs again, and Keith finds himself grinning.

“I know you know, I saw you smile when I introduced myself yesterday. You have a nice smile. I just introduced myself again because I want to know your name.”

Keith’s ears turn red. Oh.

“Keith,” he blurts out. He’s not sure if he’s more embarrassed about the smile comment or the fact that he forgot to introduce himself, but Lance doesn’t seem to mind.

“That’s a cool name. I’ve never heard it before. Keith.” He puts a lot of emphasis on the ‘ee’ sound, cutting the ‘th’ short so it almost sounds like a ‘t’. Keith likes the way he says it.

“I moved from Cuba earlier this year —“ that explains the accent — “so everything here is kind of strange. English is a very weird language. Why are so many of the words the same? I do not understand it.”

“You don’t seem to have much trouble with it,” Keith observes.

“That’s because I’m smart,” Lance says, but it’s more of a statement of fact. The sky is often blue, the ocean is salty, Lance-from-Cuba is smart. Keith thinks his confidence is admirable. He wonders if public school will crush it to death.

He hopes not.

“Plus, Cuban schools start in August and end in May, so we moved here in May and I had more months to learn it. I was lonely, though.” Lance frowns. Keith wonders what he can do to make him smile again.”

“Why were you lonely?” he asks hesitantly.

“I left all my friends in Cuba, and all the other kids were in school all day, so I haven’t had the chance to make any friends yet. Except for you, of course.” Lance’s face gets unsure again, and he looks at Keith shyly. “If that’s okay with you.”

Keith nods frantically. He’s never had a friend before, and he likes Lance. He’d like to be his friend.

“Great!” Lance chirps, smiling his sunny smile again. Keith can’t help but smile back — it’s almost like Lance’s smiles are contagious. “I’ve never had a friend with a mullet before! I like it, though. You look cool.”

The two of them chat for the rest of the ride — well, mostly Lance. He’s a bit of a motormouth, but Keith doesn’t mind. It means he doesn’t have to talk as much. And Ethan doesn’t bother him when he sees Keith’s not alone, so that’s a bonus.

———

The fourth time he sees Lance is the next day. Lance sits with him, again, and they talk until school. They hang out a recess, too. Keith notices that although Lance never runs out of things to say to him, he’s kinda shy around everyone else. Quiet. Gets stressed if too many people are talking to him, and the screaming that’s a constant on the playground makes him wince. They take to playing make-believe on the field a distance away from the playground — they’re currently playing space defenders.

The next two days are the weekend, so Keith doesn’t see Lance at all. He stays at the group home he’s currently staying in, reading quietly in the tree in the backyard until his foster mother calls him in for bedtime

The fifth time he sees Lance is on Monday, and it’s not much different from Friday. Lance sits with him on the bus and talks his ear off until they get to school, and then they play together every recess. Lance even helps Keith during math, which he appreciates. He finds out Lance is very good with numbers. He has the multiplication table memorized up to fifteen, which Keith thinks is crazy, but Lance admits he can only do that because his dad makes him write them out every day after school.

The sixth time he sees Lance is the day after that, again, on the bus. This time, when Ethan boards after Lance, he doesn’t sneer at Keith and go to to the back with the other older kids. He seats in the seat directly behind them. Keith tenses immediately.

“What’s wrong?” Lance whispers.

“Nothing,” Keith replies tersely. He doesn’t know how to explain the situation to Lance, and besides, there’s not much Lance can do anyway.

Ethan, unfortunately, notices Keith’s tension, and laughs meanly. “Aw, Oliver Twist,” he mocks, “you didn’t think I forgot about you, didja? C’mon now, I’m not like your mommy. I won’t ditch ya. We have lots more time together, isn’t that right, Keith?”

Keith grits his teeth, pressing back the tears burning hotly at his eyes. He’s over the stupid Oliver Twist jokes – Ethan uses them so much they’re boring, now – but he’s embarrassed that he made them in front of Lance. In front of his new friend.

Through the blur of his watery eyes, Keith sees a small hand clench, feels Lance shift as he turns around the face the bully.

“Leave Keith alone,” he hisses.

“Ooooh, Keith!” Ethan laughs, “got your boyfriend protecting you now? Guess you really are a KoGAYne! Ha! Do your foster brothers know you’re a f—”

There’s the heavy thud noise of skin hitting skin, and the sickening sound of a bone crunching. Ethan screams, and the bus lurches to a stop. Keith whips around, eyes wide, only to find Lance glaring down at Ethan, knuckles split and red.

“My nose!” Ethan screams. “The little freak broke my nose!”

The bus driver storms down the aisle, demanding an explanation, and Ethan cries a made-up sob story about how he was just minding his business when the weirdo new kid came out of nowhere and decked him in the face ‘to show who’s boss around here’.

Keith snorts quietly. Yeah, right. Lance is no more a bully than fly to the moon — yesterday, he saw a worm dried up on the pavement and cried so hard Keith was worried he’d throw up. He’d insisted they have a funeral for it.

Regardless, the bus driver believes Ethan, and yanks Lance by the arm to the seat behind her. Keith stares after him with wide eyes, worried, but Lance shrugs and shoots him a wink.

Keith doesn’t see him for the rest of the school day, or the day after that.

———

The seventh time he sees Lance he is relieved. Lance strolls down the middle aisle of the bus, plopping down next to Keith. There are four Hello Kitty bandages on his left hand.

“What happened?” Keith whispers.

Lance grins. “I got suspended, and I’m grounded for two weeks, but that’s it.”

Keith stares at him, a little awed. “You got grounded? For me?”

“Of course!” Lance assures. “You’re my friend! I wasn’t gonna let that butthead say those mean things about you. You’re too cool for him, anyway.”

Keith stops counting after that.

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rueitae · 1 year

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Season 1, Episode 6, The opera in the outback caper

I find Player’s desire to do accents adorable and hilarious at the same time. A fun tidbit for his personality. ‘Cause he’s absolutely willing to do it again later. Bonus points that Carmen teases him for it. (At least I choose to interpret that as teasing)

Player: wow good sign or bad omen? (In an episode in which Carmen gets brainwashed)

Me: stares at camera

Seriously though, the foreshadowing of the dark red arc throughout the series is so well done. It’s so brazen. So much so you don’t see it coming. Crackle’s civilian-ization is, I believe, the first introduction of brainwashing tech. Upon rewatch it's so clear what they’ve done. I bet the writers were cackling to themselves the entire time for this one.

I, for one, am so happy they made Carmen the opera a thing for an episode. Thank you CS for not wasting this niche opportunity. And all the zingers that come with it.

Love how they suspended audience (and Carmen) disbelief for a while by not having Le Chevre show up right away, so Carmen thinks that Gray is running this job. Until she really gets a solid look at him in a different light. I just appreciate how the scene went down. Clever and fun writing to introduce us to the issue.

I also like that Player isn’t taking any crap. He never does. That’s what I like about his character. He’s the only one who can really tell Carmen “how about not” and she’ll think about it. (And 90% of the time she skips off anyway). Though the few times in the series she does take his advice on an emotional decision are very poignant and some of my favorites.

This fight scene above the opera??? The elegance, the silence so we focus on the opera music (as Bellum wants) the timing of the machine hitting the rafters. VERY nice.

VILE NOTE

Player stop hunching over in excitement, your back is gonna hurt by the time you’re 30.

I dunno I like that after all the times they say “VILE”, Player decides to not use the acronym to seemingly try and bring home a point to Carmen to be careful, they could be up to anything.

The glider is really silent wow. Gray doesn’t hear her until she lands. Well done Ivy.

Ultimately she’s heartbroken he doesn’t remember her, but also he’s not trying to kill her so there’s that. In this first season in these moments you can tell she misses the innocent life she had. And she supposedly hasn’t been civhting VILE for long, so that’s a nice character piece there that she’s still mourning a more innocent time that she can never go back to. She knows she can’t and won’t.

8pm. I find it so hilarious for that need to specify because I personally would be like “8…am?”

Me: googles all the deadly creatures and weather in Australia

Me, hides Google doc: it’s…totally not for fic research.

LOL I love the utterly confused civilians during dramatic moments. Sorry Miro

Lab coats! Everyone in a lab coat!!! Thank you CS.

OPERA IS FAR TOO DISTRACTING. Love her character. The backstory she gives to Zack and Ivy and their FACES is delightful

Ivy and Zack are not trained thieves. That’s what makes them so fun to watch while they’re trying to hold her back. Carmen is creative too, but she has fighting experience to fall back on. The sibs don’t.

I wonder if Carmen realizes what’s happening in the split second before she goes under.

Player has the BEST “sus” face. And also rewatching I realize that the writers did give Player a chance to snap Carmen out of it. It doesn’t work. And it wouldn’t have worked for dark red arc.

Carmen really stands there saying “launch the boomerang” for almost a minute and a half lol.

The DINGO alert.

There’s something in me that appreciates that especially in these early episodes it’s always the sibs vs El Topo and Le Chevre. They get to know each other. That’s why the diversion works.

Ivy almost going up with the rocket is a TOP angst trope for me. I still get so excited over it. Not even kidding this is the millionth time I’ve watched the episode and I’m salivating over the near miss.

MIRO he just sits in the car but I’m glad we see his relief.

Okay after the first episode (well second technically) where he’s worried this is the first big protective!Player moment. He really drills into Carmen all the reasons she shouldn’t meet up with Gray again. Like. Gets really serious. These are my FAVORITE moments. And this one in particular I like because Carmen takes his advice here, she changes her mind because of what he says but for an entirely different reason. For Gray’s protection.

Carmen’s a good person. VILE totally miscalculated everything about her.

I love Maelstrom’s office it’s so EXTRA with the fish tank lol. Very clever working the darkness of what Maelstrom is asking into a kids show, with the replacement of “hat” for “head”. Hello Paper Star see you next week.

#carmen sandiego #carmen sandiego weekly #csweekly #carmen sandiego netflix #carmen sandiego 2019 #cs liveblog

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olivetoseeyou · 2 years

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Fight or Flight Club

"You two were going where? A fight club? Where they beat each other up?" Olive asked, aghast. "Well, I guess he missed his flight, so no bloodsports tonight. Ew."

This really shouldn't be shocking given Aphelion's always going on about MMA and UFC and a lot of other three letter acronyms and Blixa's so into underground scenes that you might as well call him subterranean, but even still, watching people fight for real? Not play fights? Real fights? How so totally morbid!

"I make my plans not around the whims of the unreliable but the desires of mine own heart. Sorry, strawberry, I'm still going. It's only a few hours I'll be gone, never fear," Blixa said as he polished off the last of the rum. "Some musicians find their inspiration in beautiful women and some in a bottle but mine comes from other places."

Cool, her brother who has been pregaming -Blixa, who has half a dozen stories involving less-than-legal things regs might not like- is going to a shady and maybe illegal place on his own in a city he's unfamiliar that's absolutely crawling with regs and weird vampire politics that she didn't understand. Olive freely admitted she was naive but even she could see the potential for this to turn out badly.

"Okay, well, I'll just take Aphelion's ticket or whatever and go with you," Olive said as she tried to put on a brave face. "Don't go places alone! You'll get serial-murdered! That's not allowed on my watch! We are using the buddy system here."

Her brother put his glass down an ew, he poured his blood and rum into one of her good teacups, there's no way that wouldn't stain.

"Olive, I may be blind but I am not in need of a babysitter," he said. "I'm not throwing myself into the ring. I am absorbing the atmosphere. I am basking in hidden worlds. I am rubbing my hands over every surface I can find to steal their secrets for my own. Stay at home and do something fun, won't you? No blood for you, no bruises to see. We can watch Suspiria when I return from my little excursion."

"It's not about that. I'm not...Blixa, what if you lose your phone and you don't know how to find the way back? What if you get drunk and you forget how to speak English again? What if someone has bad vibes? What if there's a devil there and you accidentally sell your soul? I'm going with you. You're just going to have to deal with that."

"Please, my label owns that old thing. They'll have to fight Death Records for my soul," he replied. "No. You would abhor every minute of it. You do not need to come with me. I cannot emphasize enough there is fighting and blood and things you do not care to see."

Anyway, long story short, Olive insisted on going with him despite all of Blixa's repeated protests that she would hate it and should go home, and guess what: she hated every second of being here.

She tried to dress for the occasion in her toughest outfit -which mostly meant that she wore her one pair of black boots and a leather jacket so you couldn't see the hearts embroidered on the front of her dress- but it was clear to anyone who gave her a single glance that this fish was so far out of water she might as well be in a desert. Wow, those guys really were beating the tar out of each other, weren't they? She figured it was super illegal to fight to the death and it was probably like WWE or something, but even still, oh, oh no, wow, that looked painful, ouch. She felt like everyone was staring at her, even if they probably weren’t. More than that, she felt the emotion in the room like a wild rock concert: loud and overpowering and just so, so much. Everyone was excited or angry or hurting or wanting and everyone was as loud as the next.

She needed air. Actually, what she really needed was to go home but she didn't quite want to admit that her brother was right, he neither wanted nor needed her there, and nothing terrible would happen if he watched the fights by himself. Olive did not think she was a prideful person but it was still embarrassing to admit that you were wrong. She slipped away when he was too busy soaking in the ambiance to pay attention. Should she go back to the bar area? But what if someone scary talked to her? Maybe she could just hide out in the bathrooms instead? What if they were gross? She was awash with indecision.

Olive did not like Fight Club or actual fight clubs, it turns out.

#brashandbrux #rp: fight or flight club

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anonymousfiction211 · 3 years

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Steamy reunion

Summary: You are an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D.-agent, when Loki (your boyfriend) is caught and brought into the hellcarrier. It is your job to interrogate the God of Mischief, but he has other plans for you reunion.

Word count: 2.135 words

Warnings: Smut!

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Hope you like it :). If you have any other ideas for me to write, don’t be afraid to contact me.

Steamy reunion Loki smiled at you when he walked by. There were two guards on either side of him, who were escorting him back to his cell. They failed to notice the little wave Loki made with his cuffed hands. In your head you scolded Loki for being so careless if anyone saw here or later on the security tape your cover would be blown. After all, everyone just thought you were a Midgardian agent of their organisation, S.H.I.E.L.D. it was called. It stood for Supreme Homeland International Espionage Law-Enforcement Division. A ridiculous name for an organisation. You always expected that they chose the acronym first and made up some words to make it sound like they thought it through. You tried to hide a smile as your boyfriend was escorted back. You knew he was thinking about killing the two guards with just a flick of his hand, trying to impress you. He always liked it when you were impressed by him, and Loki is a very impressive being.

When he was out of your sightline you focused your attention back to the file before you. You were the one that was going to interrogate Loki. He had planned it all out. After your ‘interrogation’ you would leave the cell open for him. At that moment, some archer was going to stir up the hellcarrier, he would meet you outside on the landing strip. He hadn’t told you anything else, he told you it was in case you were discovered. But you knew, he liked the be the only one who knew what was going on. He only told people what they needed to follow his instruction, but his plan was always a secret. Agent Hill approached you ‘Are you ready?’ she asked. You nodded and followed her through the hallway to Loki’s cell. It was a round glass cell, with only a small bench in the back. Loki was sitting on the bench, with an amused smile on his face as you and agent Hill entered the room. In front of the cell stood a control panel, you glanced at it. On to of the buttons was a description about what the button does, which was going to your next instruction very easy to complete.

Agent Hill gave you a few rules to follow. Like, staying away from the glass and not entering Loki’s cell. After she made sure you got it she left. There were no guards present, meaning they clearly had faith in the cell they build. When agent Hill left you turned around and saw Loki already advancing at you. He stopped right before you, the thick glass separating the two of you. His stance was dominant and he had a certain hunger in his eyes. ‘Open the door, love’ he said in a low voice. There weren’t many situations where you had the upper hand. Loki was stronger, faster, and used his powers to stay one step ahead of everyone. So, right now you couldn’t resist your chance to tease him a little bit. ‘I’m afraid that I’m under clear instructions from agent Hill not to open the door’ you said as seriously as you could. Loki looked confused for a second, but then you saw the playful twinkle in his eyes. ‘I’m going to get out either way. You can be on my good side or on my bad side. And you know what happens to bad girls, don’t you?’ he said with his velvet voice.

You couldn’t help but shiver at his words. Your head filled with images of what Loki had done with you over the last year. The God of Mischief, the silvertongue, certainly lived up to his name in the bedroom. ‘I need to figure out the systems first’ you whispered to him. ‘You insult me, darling. I already took care of that’ he faked an insulting expression. ‘Now open the door and come in here, I won’t ask again’ he said sternly. You went to the control room and pushed the button marked ‘open door’ and the door of Loki’s cell slid open. Loki watched every step you took towards the open door. The moment you stepped inside his cell he stalked towards you. It only took him a few steps. He stood very close in front of you. You looked up at him and he down at you. He grabbed one of your cheeks and closed the distance to your lips. You felt his breath on your skin as he ghosted over your lips with his. ‘Well done, love’ he said before kissing you deeply. When he broke the kiss, he chuckled when he heard you whine slightly.

‘Did you miss me?’ he asked you. ‘With everything I’m. It took a lot of self-control when they first brought you in to not come looking for you’ you told him. ‘Had fun here on Midgard?’ he purred. He knew that you hadn’t. As him, you also thought Midgardians were weak creatures. He just laughed at your scolded expression. He grabbed both your cheeks and pulled you in for a deep kiss again. You felt his tongue slip out and you immediately opened your mouth to give him access. Your tongues danced around each other and you couldn’t help but moan a little into the kiss. Loki broke the kiss when both of you needed air. ‘I missed you’ he said while putting his forehead against yours. ‘I missed you too’ you said back. His hands grabbed your and he pulled them to his chest. ‘I have to go now, I see you outside in about half an hour’ you whispered. You took a step back, intending on leaving, but Loki pulled you close against him. ‘Change of plans’ he grinned at you.

Before you could register what was happening his tongue was in your mouth. Eagerly, you widened your mouth to give him better access. You moaned into the kiss, it had been so long that you were able to touch each other. Your hands started to roam his body. You were starting to get frustrated by the many layers of clothing he had on. Loki chuckled he broke the kiss and took the hem of your t-shirt to put it over your head. He threw the shirt on the ground behind him and stopped to stare at your breasts. His pupils were so wide you almost couldn’t see his eye colour. His hands slowly started to caress your breasts at the edge of your dark green bra. You began to blush under his gaze. His hands went to the middle of your bra and he pulled at the little golden snake which hang there. He turned his gaze back to you and you had never seen him look so feral.

He unclipped your bra and immediately unbuttoned your pants. Within seconds you were naked and he pushed you against the glass. He started to devour your mouth, leaving you breathless. You started to unclip his leather tunic and he started to help you to make it go faster. His lips never left yours. When he was naked you pushed him back slightly. ‘Do we have time for this?’ you asked him. Loki was quite insatiable and sex with him always included lots of foreplay, multiple rounds and he could last a very long time. ‘There is always time for this’ Loki said. His hands found your waist and he lifted you up against the glass. Your legs wrapped around his waist and you felt his erection against your clit. He slowly started to grind into you, making you wetter by the second. ‘Loki’ you whined, needing him inside of you. ‘Patience, love. After a few days everything will change for us’ he whispered in your ear. He nipped at your earlobe, making you moan loudly.

Loki was leaving hickeys and marks all over your neck and chest. After you regained your senses you asked him ‘What do you mean?’. Loki laughed darkly. ‘That means…when I have this world… I can do whatever I want’ he whispered between his groans. ‘And what I want… more than anything… is you’ he said. ‘So, that’s your plan?’ you asked slightly out of breath. The tip of his erect cock was teasing your entrance. He slowly brought you down on his cock, impaling you against the glass. ‘Oh my god’ you gasped when you felt him entering you. Loki just grinned smuggle and started a very slowly thrusting in and almost out of you. ‘The plan is a bit more complicated than that’ he said. Your hands went to his hair and you tugged slightly on them, earning you a small moan from Loki. His picked up the pace slightly, your walls were slowly getting sensitive. But it would never be enough to send you over the edge, he was going to slow for that. ‘First, we escape this plane’ he started to explain. His mouth found one of our nipples and he started to circle it with his tongue. When you were panting enough to his liking he released your breast and started to leave open mouth kisses on your throat.

‘Then, we will go to Stark tower’. He picked up the pace of his thrusting again and you were starting to moan louder. ‘I will open a worm hole and my army will come out and defeat these so-called heroes’ he sneered. One of his hands found your clit and he started to draw circles on it fast. ‘Loki, oh my god, don’t stop’ you begged him. Loki just grinned wickedly ‘Normally, I would love to play with you more. But since we are on bit of a deadline…’ He pulled out of you and sat you down. You whined at the loss of feeling inside of you. Loki winked and got down on his knees. Before you could ask what he was doing his tongue was on your clit and two fingers slid inside of you. He was working you into a frenzy. ‘Come for me’ he growled. The vibration of his voice that shot through your clit sends you over the edge. You came loudly screaming his name and your knees started to buck. Loki grabbed your hips and pulled you down towards him. ‘On all fours’ he commanded you sternly. You quickly obeyed him.

You felt him shuffle behind you and he grabbed your hips so hard, you knew there would be bruises tomorrow. But you didn’t care about that, you were too excited for what was to come. This time he didn’t take it slow, he quickly entered you and was fucking you like an animal. You stretched your arms out and lowered your upper body. Loki didn’t relent and started to leave bite marks against your shoulder blades. The only thing you could do was moan and let Loki fuck you, like he wanted. Not that you were complaining. ‘You know what I’m going to do after that?’ he asked. You didn’t answer him, but just moaned loudly instead. You were slightly sliding back and forth, because of his hard thrusting. ‘I’m going to rule… this planet with their… pathetic mortals’ he spat. His fingers dugged deeper into your hips, which made you cry out in pain and pleasure simultaneously. ‘You shall be my queen’ he grunted. ‘And every morning and every night I will fuck you senseless’ he went on. ‘We will get everything we deserve’. Loki’s hand snaked around your stomach and found one of your breasts. He started to massage it. The pleasure became to overwhelming and you were clenching his cock slightly, trying to hold off your orgasm as best as you could. ‘Loki, please’ you begged him. His upper body was on yours, he slowed his pace a bit and started to whisper in your ear. ‘You will rule by my side, together we will make something of this planet. And you will obey my every command, won’t you?’ he asked you. ‘God, yes, Loki, yes’ you screamed out. ‘Then come for you King’ he commanded. Your orgasm shot through you and your vision blurred a little. After a few thrusts you felt Loki groan loudly and his seed spilled inside of you.

He slowly pulled out of you and sat down against the glass wall. You turned around and saw his hands open for you. You sat down on his lap and curled yourself against him, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. He gave you a soft kiss on the top of your head. ‘I can’t wait to rule by your side’ you whispered to him. He held you tightly against him ‘You will be an amazing queen’ he whispered back. Loki just caressed you for a few moments until you heard him sigh. ‘I’m afraid you really should get going now’. You got up from his lap and started to search for your clothes. You put on your underwear and pants. Before you could grab your bra from the ground Loki beat you to it. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen this one before’ he smirked at you. He stood up and you rolled your eyes when you saw he had dressed himself with his seidr. ‘That’s not fair’ you said while trying to get the bra back. ‘Tsk, no, darling. I’m keeping this one’ he said while winking at you. You felt a blush starting to form on your cheeks. His smile widened when he saw it, he loved to make you blush. You put on your shirt and walked out of the cell. Loki walked besides you and grabbed you for a deep kiss. He let go of you and opened the doors for you. Right before you walked through he slapped your ass ‘See you in five minutes, my queen’ he purred while you walked outside of the room.

Tags: @delightfulheartdream

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki of asgard #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki god of mischief #loki avengers #Smut #shameless smut #loki smut #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x ofc #loki x original female character #loki god of lies #loki story #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction

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ravennm84 · 3 years

Text

Payback

Hey everyone! I’ve been writing this new story for the past couple of days, and am planning to take a break for a while after this. My husband and I are expecting our first child next week and will be focusing on her. For that reason, I decided to give the class some sugar, as we all need some goodness in the world. I’ll be back when things settle down, but until then, Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!

It was just an average conversation. Alya was sitting at her desk before class with Lila since Marinette was late again. It was very pleasant until the italian girl said something… wrong.

“After I saved Jagged’s kitten from being run over by the plane and he wrote that song about me, we kept in touch.” Lila tittered away, without a care. “He ended up mentioning how he wanted a pair of special glasses for his tour, so I made him those Eiffel Tower glasses that he loves so much. Next thing I know, he’s bragging about me to all his friends and they’re all asking me to make things for them too. I ended up making a website and going by the alias MDC. Isn’t that amazing?”

Alya hadn’t had a chance to answer as Marinette came rushing into the room a second before the bell rang and Mme. Bustier began her lesson. Although whatever the teacher was saying was practically ignored by the majority of the class that had heard Lila’s claim.

Because they knew.

They had been there when Marinette had made those glasses for Jagged Stone for the work experience day at Chloe’s family hotel. They knew that Marinette went by the acronym MDC for the initials of her name. Max, Rose, Juleka, Mylene, Kim, and Alya had all helped Marinette set up her website and model her designs a couple months ago, while Lila had been traveling…

She’s a LIAR!! They all thought at once.

During the next break, Alya quickly set up a group chat with everyone but Lila and Marinette.

FoxyJournalist: You all heard that, right? She’s lying about being MDC, but that’s Marinette!

DJTurtle: So not cool, doesn’t she know that we were there? Is this some kind of joke?

MightIllustrator: Don’t think so, she’s still bragging about it back here.

GothicBeauty: @DJTurtle Agreed, not cool.

Rocker’n’Pink: I can’t believe it! I just emailed Prince Ali to see if he knows her, because if Lila’s lying about this…

BigTeddy: …

SmolTeddy: …

TrueBrain: …

Da’Strongest: … Crap

Sk8Grl: … I second that Crap

FoxyJournalist: Emergency meeting at my place tonight! We need to figure all this out!

DJTurtle: Agreed.

TruQueen: We’ll be there too. I don’t like Dupain-Cheng, but I HATE Rossi.

MissRed: I’ll bring snacks.

By the time class started again, everyone had agreed to meet up after school. The hard part, as it turned out, was shaking the liar, who practically latched onto their group and wouldn’t let them be. It was Mylene you finally came up with an idea, mentioning that they were going to the homeless shelter to help feed people and clean the facility. Lila suddenly remembered that she already had plans and couldn’t come help them, before turning to walk home.

Once she was out of earshot, Alix turned to the other girl with a smirk. “Good going, how’d you know that’d work?”

Mylene shrugged. “I was thinking earlier about all the times she talked about charity work but always made excuses to not come with us when we were doing it. I figured she’d do it this time too, and I was right.”

An hour later the entire class; sans Marinette, Lila, and Adrien, who was at a photoshoot, were gathered in the Cesaire apartment. Everyone had their phones or tablets out, looking up everything that Lila had told them since coming to school. And what they found was anything but comforting.

Connection to Jagged Stone due to saving a kitten: lies, according to articles about his one and only pet for the past 17 years, Fang the crocodile.

Connection to Prince Ali via Go-Green charities: lies, according to Prince Ali himself when he responded to Rose’s email, plus he didn’t do green charities, instead focusing on children’s charities.

Secretly dating Adrien: lies, confirmed when Adrien called Nino back during a break and let it slip that Lila was only his friend and that she made him uncomfortable at times because of how clingy she was.

Every single thing they looked up about Lila turned out to be a lie. And although they couldn’t prove it themselves, that likely meant that all of the diseases and injuries that she’d claimed to have were probably fake too. Meaning that they had been buying her lunch and giving her money for charities, and the money was probably going straight into the liar’s pocket.

“By my calculations, when including all the lunches and food we bought for her, money we donated for charities she wasn’t involved in, and tickets for events she attended with us; Lila Rossi has scammed close to €1,000 from our class. All of which we are not likely to get back from her.” Max groused as he typed away on his tablet.

Alix scoffed. “At least all we lost was some money and a bit of our dignity. I’m pretty sure Marinette went through a lot more than us. Heck, that liar tried to convince me last week that Marinette ruined her homework and said ‘if only she understood what it was like for someone to do that to her’ like she was trying to get me to destroy Marinette’s homework as revenge. I didn’t do it, but I let her copy my homework so she wouldn’t lose any points.”

Juleka’s pale complexion went stark white. “She kept telling me how Marinette was only friends with me so she could get close to Luka and make Adrien jealous, and that I was really trusting to let someone like that near my family.”

“When my headphones broke, she told me that she’d seen Marinette messing with them earlier,” Nino told them, his voice laced with guilt as he remembered giving his oldest friend the cold shoulder for days after that.

Alya’s head dropped into her hands as she struggled to hold back tears. “That liar almost had me convinced that Mari was nothing but a jealous bitch who was out to get rid of her since they both had a crush on Adrien. I can’t believe how close I came to buying that bull.”

“And then there’s the expulsion,” Rose added, her voice quivering. “She was accused of stealing, assault, and cheating on that mock exam. Even though Marinette was reinstated, that kind of stuff doesn’t just disappear from someone’s record. What if that keeps her from being accepted into lycee?”

Everyone went pale at that. Although most turned red in the face a moment later from rage for their friend.

“We can’t let her get away with this!” Kim growled as he began pacing the room.

“But is there anything we can really do?” Mylene asked with tears in her eyes.

When the blonde heiress chuckled, sitting off to the side of the room, everyone turned to glare at her, but she wasn’t phased by their looks. “And this is exactly why I decided to come here. None of you have any idea how to deal with someone like Rossi. I, however, have dealt with those types of people multiple times.” The glares ceased, realizing that Chloe was probably right.

“One of the best ways to get back at her, would be to use her own lies against her. Do it in a way that the only way out of it is to admit that she’s a liar. And while we do that, we completely tear down the empire that fake HBIC is trying to build, maybe get her expelled like she tried to do to Dupain-Cheng.”

The class stared at her in surprise, not expecting the former hero to actually be useful in this situation. But what she said…

Alya shook her head in surprise. “I never thought I’d say this, but it sounds like you’re the best option. Please, tell us your plan.”

The smirk Chloe gave them, almost made them feel sorry for what was about to happen to the liar.

~oOo~

The following morning when Lila came to class, she saw everyone fawning over something on their phones or tablets. Curious, she stepped next to Alya and looked over her shoulder to find that she was looking at the MDC website.

She smirked for a second before plastering an appreciative, yet shy grin on her face. “I see you found my website, what do you think of my designs?”

“Gurl, they are gorgeous! I can’t believe you made such intricate clothes and accessories!” Alya gushed as she continued looking through the pictures until she stopped on a design that she had modeled for Marinette, although, like all the other photos, her face wasn’t shown. “And this one here! It’s like a total dedication to Rena Rouge. Make no mistake, Ladybug will always be my favorite, but Rena’s power is really awesome too.”

“I’m glad you like it!” Lila smiled, she was about to go into describing how she was inspired by the design when Alya asked her something surprising.

“Do you think I can have it? Pretty please?”

Lila came up short, not having expected this. “Well, you can just order it from my website-” she began saying, only to stop when Alya’s expression dropped.

“I don’t understand. You always say that if we need anything to just ask you, and you have this dress listed as in stock on your website, it would be nothing for you to just give it to me, right?”

“I-um-”

“And you even told Marinette the other day that if she were a real friend, she wouldn’t mind giving us free pastries whenever we ask, right?”

“R-right! I’m just surprised that you would be so interested in one of my designs. I’ll bring it in tomorrow!”

“Thanks gurl, you're the best.” Alya gushed before giving Lila a hug that actually kind of hurt.

Hurrying back to her seat, Lila resisted the urge to curse as she got onto the MDC website to order and overnight the dress to her apartment. Luckily, the mail normally arrived before she left for school. And doing this would help her convince everyone she was the designer MDC.

~oOo~

Lila’s newest lie about being MDC wasn’t going as planned. Sure, she got a lot of praise and people wearing her designs, but it was costing her. Every time she brought in an item that she’d had to buy and overnight to her apartment to give to one of her classmates, another would practically demand another item that was listed as available on the MDC website. A hat for Alix, a hoodie for Kim, a shirt for Max, a dress for Rose, it went on and on. And when she tried to say that she couldn’t, they would say how Marinette would never do such a thing and then start to question what she told them. This left her no choice but to buy everything they wanted herself and give to them.

Sure, it made her lie all the more believable since she was able to deliver the items they asked for, but it was beginning to clear out her savings. At the rate she was going, she was probably MDC’s best customer.

Then came the day when the MDC website began offering custom orders. Alya asked Marinette for a couple sheets of paper from her sketchbook and a pencil before handing it to Lila. “Gurl, I’ve been wanting you to do something custom for me for weeks, but I wasn’t going to ask since you didn’t have it listed on your website and I didn’t want to take advantage of you. But now, I can tell you exactly what I want and I can even record your process for my blog! Isn’t that awesome?”

Lila gripped the pencil until it nearly snapped. She could barely draw stick figures and she was pretty sure Maribrat knew that, not missing the smirk that the goody-two-shoes was sending her direction. “I would but, oww! My arthritis has been acting up all day and I can barely hold a pencil.” She whimpered pathetically as gingerly gripped her left wrist.

“But that shouldn’t be a problem,” Max spoke up smiling kindly at her. “After all, it’s your left wrist that has arthritis and you’re right handed.”

Shut up, you stupid nerd! She thought, struggling to keep the scowl from her face. “You’re right, but I’m not sure if I’ll have enough time to draw something out before class starts.”

“But, Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale have commented on your website how you are really good at doing fast concept drawing for your designs. So, it shouldn’t take you too long to come up with something to start with.” Rose commented, her high voice grating on the liar’s nerves.

She was trying to think of another excuse when Chloe began laughing. “You can all stop the act, I think we’ve played it out long enough.”

To Lila’s surprise, the majority of the class nodded before their eager, friendly faces turned to scowls and angry glares as they looked in her direction. Unsure of what else to do, she started faking tears as she looked around the room. “Why are all of you looking at me like that? I haven’t done anything wrong. Did Marinette say something? You know-”

“Cut the crap, Lila! We did our research weeks ago and figured out you’re nothing but a lying bag of nothing.” Chloe cut her off as she stood from her desk and smiled cruelly at the girl. “You really messed up when you started claiming you were the MDC, the rising star of fashion. Everyone in class knows that’s Marinette.”

Unable to help herself, Lila’s head whipped around in shock to glare at the french-asian girl, sitting shocked, but a little smug at her desk. “Is that what Marinette said? She’s lying!”

Alya scoffed this time. “You know, there may have been a point when we might have believed you, but not this time. We were all there when Mari gave those glasses to Jagged Stone and then had her design his album cover. Max and I helped her set up the MDC website. And Rose, Juleka, Mylene, Kim, Max, and I were the ones that modeled the designs posted on her website.”

Lila glared at her. She knew when the jig was up, and there was no point in wasting her energy on her worthless classmates anymore. Still, she couldn’t help but be angry at them. “Well, you all better have the money to pay me back for all the stuff I bought you! Or else I’ll get all of you in trouble with Mme. Bustier and M. Damocles. If you can’t tell, from the time I got Maribrat expelled, I’ve got them both wrapped around my finger.”

“Actually, you can consider all this repaying us.” Max grinned that annoying, calculating grin at her. “Everything you bought was equal to or of similar value to all the lunches we bought you, tickets for events that we covered, or money we donated to your supposed charities, which I’m 96.8% sure was actually your own bank account.”

She growled at that, about to let out a tirade at all of them when Chloe laughed again, gaining her attention again. “Well, all that was to pay back the class, but you’re still not even with Dupain-Cheng or me. I’m sick of seeing your ugly face and hair-don’t in here every day and decided to do something about it. So, I had Daddy get a hold of the Italian Embassy for a meeting the other day. Imagine how surprised and angry they were when the ambassador’s assistant started talking about how incopitant Ladybug and Chat Noir are, since they couldn’t defeat the akuma that had forced her daughter’s school to close for months.”

Lila’s tan skin paled quickly as her head whipped around the room, looking for an escape, but Ivan and Kim were guarding the door.

“The woman was even more surprised after mentioning which school it was and Daddy told her how it was my school. Then I mentioned a girl that had been out of school for the time the assistant had mentioned, and that she claimed to be in the kingdom of Achu via Embassy funds. The Ambassador wasn’t too happy about what he was hearing and cut the meeting short. Although I did hear her mention that she was planning to speak with the principal and her daughter’s teacher. Speaking of, I wonder why Mme. Bustier is so late for class?

Seconds later, the door Ivan and Kim had been guarding burst open, revealing a very angry Damocles, Mme. Bustier, and a woman that had a strong resemblance to Lila. Without a single word, the woman stomped forward, grabbed Lila by the arm, and began dragging her out of the room. Lila tried to pull free as she pleaded for her mother to listen, but the woman didn’t say a single word as the door closed behind them, leaving a very upset Mme. Bustier standing at the front of the room.

The news quickly spread around school before lunch how Lila had done, and was likely to be expelled for truancy, bullying, lying to the staff, and trying to get Marinette expelled. If that hadn’t been bad enough, an akuma had come fluttering into the courtyard just as the two Rossi’s had been leaving. Lila had pushed her mother away in an effort to catch the akuma, only for a yo-yo to smack her hand to catch it, snapping two of the liar’s fingers in the process.

Seeing that, M. Damocles had no choice but to call the police while Ladybug and Chat Noir stood guard over Lila, with Alya recording everything from the moment she’d seen the akuma entering the courtyard. Lila screamed and raged as the police handcuffed her and took her away. Ladybug recommended using a facility outside of Paris, as they had witnessed her willingly going after an akuma.

The class never saw Lila again, although they did hear that she had been deported back to Italy and was dropped in a high security prison’s deepest, darkest hole to be forgotten by the world after being convicted for aiding a terrorist. Granted, none of them had expected that when they had set out to get even with Lila, but after seeing her willingly go after an akuma for revenge, they were glad she was gone.

The class had also profusely apologized to Marinette for not believing her, as well as keeping her in the dark about their plan to expose Lila. Marinette accepted their apology, but admitted that she had been starting to figure it out after Lila kept ordering from her website and her classmates ended up with the ordered items. Then, when she had mentioned her theory to Adrien, he’d shown her the group chat and admitted that the class had planned a way to confront and expose Lila. So, she decided to trust her friends and let their plan play out, using the money Lila had spent to buy more supplies and make matching ‘thank you’ gifts for her friends.

And that’s it! I hope you all enjoyed this bit of class sugar. With all the salt out there, I really needed something sweet and this seemed like a good way to do it!

Taglist:

@2confused-2doanything @7-sage-7 @aadnrsstar @abrx2002 @awkwardromances @bayball @babylovebug18 @botanicalfoxx @back-cats-and-broken-mirrors @caffeinetheory @cheshire5210 @chocolateherringtacofan @city-of-all-tunas @classycollectorreviewworld @corabeth11 @chocolatechipcookiesandcamembert @darkened-flame @delightfulcookiesrecipespizza @fandom-trapped-03 @ghostmaster @iamblinkmarvelarmy @interobanginyourmom @izang @jesussavedevenme @kazedancer @kitten12113 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @lilypotter2018 @lunataravler @maskedpainter @ miraculouslydumb @nerd-nowandforever @ola-is-dead @pandacatxd @plushbookworm @plz-excuse-my-inner-ravenclaw @pheonix-biach @raiderofthelostbooks @ramos123 @rowanrouge @rowanyx @ren121 @seesea22 @seraphichana @sashakoi @shypeacekitten @tazer6787 @that-girl-sakea @thecrazyfantrollshasmoved @the-smallest-kittenz @tishwinchesterannabethjackson @t1dwarrior-of-earth @ulmban @with-forward-motion @wonderbat91939 @zoiechance

#lila lies #lila salt #lila gets exposed #class redemption #chloe redemption #alya redemption #marinette dupain cheng

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missing-marvel · 3 years

Text

The Shape of You (Pt. 4)

Pairing: Vision/Reader

Part 3, Part 5

Words: 5698

A/N: *shows up several months late with coffee and a new chapter* What’s up y’all, who’s ready for more metal husband?

You awoke feeling sluggish and hazy, practically choking on dust and resisting the need to sneeze. The feeling quickly shifted to panic as you opened your eyes to even more darkness which only worsened when you tried to move, something blocking the space in front of you as well as tangling around your legs. It wasn’t until you rolled to the floor with a loud ‘thud’ that you remembered falling asleep on the sofa. You didn’t remember grabbing a blanket, however, which had gotten wrapped around your legs in your sleep.

You recognized Vision’s silhouette as he appeared hurriedly from the other room. You couldn’t see much in the dim light, but you could recognize him by his eyes alone. They glowed softly in the dark, that electric-blue bringing some familiarity to your surroundings.

The lights came on and you were momentarily blinded, shielding your eyes with your hand as they adjusted. “Sorry,” you said, blinking the last remnants of sleep away. “I just fell off the sofa. I’m okay.” You took a good look around the room for the first time since arriving, still not bothering to get up off the floor. It looked like a fairly basic living space. There was a patterned rug, a coffee table, some shelves with a few random knick-knacks, the usual. You did notice the lack of a TV, however. You supposed it wasn’t worth investing in one if no one would be living here ninety-nine percent of the time.

Still a bit groggy, you almost didn’t see Vision walk over to you and extend a hand to help you up. To be completely honest, you were perfectly comfortable on the floor but you weren’t going to turn him away. You uttered a quick ‘thanks’ as you got to your feet.

You had absolutely no idea what time it was but it was definitely dark out. Not a speck of light filtered in through the drawn curtains. Whether it was evening or early morning, however, you hadn’t a clue. “What time is it?”

Vision pointed to a digital clock sitting on a bookshelf close by. It read 6:30.

“I only slept for a few hours?” Well, more like several hours, by your estimate. It was broad daylight when you’d arrived. Still, that was surprising given that you’d basically passed out as soon as you got indoors and hadn’t slept in like two days.

Vision shook his head, however, cutting off your train of thought. He held up one finger on his right hand and put it down before holding up nine in total. It took you a second to understand what he meant, thinking he was saying ten before realizing.

“Are you saying I slept nineteen hours?” Vision just nodded and you let out a sigh. That explained why you felt so stiff. That much time on a sofa, even a surprisingly comfortable one, would take its toll. One other thing struck you, however. “Wait a minute, so it’s six in the morning, then? It’s awfully dark out.” You chanced a peek out the window to actually confirm that it was, in fact, dark outside.

You turned back when you heard the familiar scratch of pen on paper. It looked like Vision had found a new notepad somewhere. By the time you walked over, he had finished writing. “Clock is an hour ahead. Haven’t fixed it. Only got power back on a couple hours ago.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.” This time of year, it was perfectly normal to be dark at 5:30. However, it was also cold outside and you were beginning to notice that in here as well. You picked up the blanket off the floor and draped it over your shoulders, pulling it tight around yourself. “Is there heat at all?”

Vision wrote his response as quick as possible, handwriting still impeccable as always. “It’s on but not very strong. Building isn’t in best condition anymore. There’s fuses missing so I prioritized some things. A few lights aren’t going to work.” He stepped aside and gestured somewhere down the small hallway behind him. On the wall was an open panel.

“Wait this place still has a fuse box? The Avengers couldn’t afford someplace with circuit breakers?” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at your own joke, if you could really call it that. You were just happy your custodial knowledge was relevant for once.

“Old SHIELD building,” Vision quickly noted. If this place had been built by the Avengers, it would be far more modern, probably to an unnecessary extent. Tony Stark would only stand for the best, even if it was a safe house that would almost never get used.

“Shield? Are they still around?” You only sort of understood what SHIELD was. No more than any other member of the general public. They were a kind-of, sort-of government agency or something like that. They always kept their stuff super secret so most people never really knew what they did. Then there was the whole deal with Hydra which nobody understood. You decided a long time ago it wasn’t worth worrying about, much like most of the American populace. Perhaps you should have paid closer attention.

Vision simply tilted his hand side-to-side in a gesture that implied that the answer was complicated and really not worth getting into. He shifted the conversation to you instead. “How are you feeling?”

“I should be asking you that. You weren’t doing so well yesterday.” You tried not to let the worry in your voice show, though you weren’t sure what good it would do.

You thought you saw a hint of a smile cross his face as he turned back to his paper. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright.”

“Vision...” You recalled back to the other night, when you’d told him nearly the same thing after a couple solid days of no sleep. Before you could retort, however, he’d turned and headed toward the other room, gesturing for you to follow.

The small office space was an absolute mess. The only reason you called it an office was the papers and folders scattered around the room as well as the computer tucked away on a desk in the corner. Underneath a blanket of dust, it looked almost exactly like the first computer you’d ever owned. Actually, it might just be the first computer. You were pretty sure it should be in a museum.

Vision navigated the difficult terrain with ease as he made his way to the desk. You, on the other hand, felt like you were doing a balancing act as you tried to limit your steps to the few parts of the floor that were visible. You didn’t know what all these stacks of papers and folders were exactly, but you figured it was best not to mess with them.

“There’s no way that thing works,” you said once you’d cleared a spot to stand by the desk, your own little island of shag carpeting amongst the sea of paper.

Vision pried open a panel on the side of the computer, carefully removing a CPU board with all the expertise of a seasoned technician. The actual monitor was half buried in a pile of miscellaneous cords and plugs next to the desk. After a brief moment of inspection, wherein he must’ve decided all appeared fine, he went ahead and booted the thing up.

It chugged to life like a patient coming out of surgery, slowly and with great difficulty. It made sounds you were pretty sure should only be coming from a lawn mower but all the lights eventually blinked on in time. As it did so, you braved the sneeze-inducing dust pile for the monitor, the air turning cloudy as you shifted all the junk that had been untouched for years. “I’m guessing you’ll need this?” You hoisted the dinosaur of a monitor up onto the desk, Vision taking it gratefully and nodding a thanks your way.

For a minute after he plugged it in, it seemed the screen wasn’t going to work. Only after staring at it did you realize it was working, albeit extremely slowly. A symbol was appearing on the screen, the shape becoming more discernible the longer the machine whirred. As far you could tell, it looked like some kind of government emblem, like an eagle with a crest in the center. It wasn’t until it had spent a solid minute loading that you were able to read the text surrounding it. “Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement... Logistics Division? What on Earth does— wait, that’s what SHIELD stands for?”

Vision nodded in a way that suggested he wasn’t overly fond of the acronym either. You were beginning to think he wasn’t so difficult to read after all, not like you thought when you’d first met, at least. It just took time, much like reading the decades-old monitor had.

“I think someone just really wanted the initials to spell out shield.” You gave a breathy laugh, more air than sound. “What’re you going to do with this old thing? Can it even get internet?”

Vision shook his head and reached for his paper from the edge of the desk. “Not that kind of computer,” he wrote. You resisted butting in as he tore off a new sheet, still not used to the pauses in conversation that resulted from the rather roundabout method of communication. “It’s wired directly into an old SHIELD system and by extension, hopefully, the Avengers emergency system.”

“Really? I would’ve guessed this place predated the Avengers.” As you spoke, Vision got the keyboard hooked up which had been stuffed into one of the desk drawers. It was missing at least a quarter of its key caps, the really chunky, old kind that made a satisfying click-clack when pressed. Apparently they’d prioritized actual computer hardware over keyboards considering there were offices at your job that still had keyboards just like it. Correction: your old job. You’d almost forgotten.

“SHIELD software was integrated with Stark tech after the Battle of New York. In theory, we should be able to put out an emergency signal on a secure Avengers server from here.” You almost hadn’t noticed Vision writing again as you zoned out a bit.

You would’ve been more excited over good news, but you’d learned over the years what happened when you got your hopes up. “So when you say in theory, I’m guessing the odds aren’t exactly...” You trailed off, unable to continue without sounding horribly pessimistic.

“It will work,” was all he wrote, a noticeable firmness in his grip as he held the pen. You didn’t say anything else but moved closer to the desk, directly by his side now. There was what could only be described as a hint of doubt in his expression before he turned back to the monitor as green text cluttered the screen.

“We can only hope so.” You let your hand brush his shoulder as you navigated back towards the door, no longer particularly caring to avoid crumpling the paper on the floor.

You weren’t sure how long it would take Vision to finish what he was doing, especially with the tech he was stuck with. You found it more than a bit ironic that possibly the most advanced machine on the planet had to use a decades-old computer to call for help. It felt weird to think of him as a machine. After what you’d been through in the past 24 hours alone, you’d begun to think of him as just another person. Well, not just another person, that wasn’t what you meant. How to put it...? You just couldn’t explain it. There was no precedent in your mind for a situation like this. Vision was a living being. As alive as anyone, maybe more so. That much you could say confidently.

Trying not to get too lost in your thoughts, you busied yourself investigating the rest of the apartment, not that there was much to find. Living room, connected kitchen, hallway with the office and stairs that led up to a bedroom and bathroom. All pretty standard. All of it looked fresh out of the 80’s. Well, maybe not fresh.

Just as you completed your lap of the place, you were interrupted by a low grumble from none other than your own stomach. That was a problem. There was definitely not food here. You had no other choice really than to shove the feeling to the back of your mind for now. You got yourself a glass of water to make do. At least the plumbing worked.

By the time Vision came back, it had been less than twenty minutes. “That was quick. Any success?” You sipped your water, ignoring the slight metallic tang it had.

Vision wrote as he crossed the room to stand opposite you from the island counter. “The beacon is active. Now someone just needs to hear it.”

Despite his lack of vocals, you sensed a definite lack of confidence in his words. “How long do you think that’ll take?” You hoped not too long. You were concerned about your food situation.

He didn’t bother writing a response. The expression on his face made it clear; he had no idea. Maybe never, if no one was out there to hear it. You only hummed a response, neither confirming nor retorting. The sound of you sipping your water seemed immensely loud in the heavy silence of the room.

“Well, what do we do now?” You were becoming anxious again. You didn’t like being forced to sit and wait. At any minute, you felt like law enforcement would start breaking the door down.

“We wait. There’s nothing else we can do.” He seemed apologetic. He wished he could give you a more concrete answer, some sort of assurance that this would all work out, but he couldn’t. Not truthfully, anyway.

It looked like you had some time to kill. You weren’t sure what all there really was to do. Still, it wasn’t all bad. At least you had company. “I wonder if there’s a better way we can communicate,” you mused, turning your mind to less dire matters.

Vision seemed to brighten up a bit as he was struck by an idea. “You don’t happen to know any ASL, do you?”

You shook your head. “Unfortunately, no. I assume you do?”

He responded by holding up his right hand in a closed fist and sort of nodded it up and down.

“I’m guessing that means... yes?” It wasn’t a far stretch. You’d actually thought about learning ASL before but never gotten around to it. There were more uses for it than people realized. Too bad work left you too busy and tired to make the time for lessons. Well now you had nothing but time.

Vision just nodded his head in the more familiar interpretation of the word. He grabbed the pen and paper again off the counter. “I could teach you some. At least the important parts, if you want.” He hesitated a split second between sentences, just a bit nervous, though the pause was nowhere near long enough for you to notice. It was barely a stutter in his programming, a single digit skipped somewhere in his code. Nothing to be concerned with.

“Yeah,” you said, maybe just slightly too enthusiastic. “Yeah, that’d be great! I— I mean, it would be useful, you know? Way more efficient than pen and paper. Uhm...” You were struggling to ask how he wanted to start when your stomach growled, providing a convenient segue into another topic. “Heh, sorry. Didn’t realize how hungry I was.” You tried to pass it off as no big deal, although you really were starving. You hadn’t eaten anything since before setting Vision free. It had been well over a full day since then.

He looked surprised for a moment, which he was, before he began writing. For a genius super-computer, he could sometimes be very forgetful of the needs of his human cohorts. They were very fragile things, humans. The need for sleep and food was something Vision never had to worry about, something he realized he took for granted. Something akin to guilt began to gnaw at him when he too realized how long it had been since the escape. He should’ve brought up the matter earlier. “We need to get you food,” he wrote very matter-of-factly. It wasn’t something up for debate.

“I don’t exactly have a lot of cash on me, Vis.” You flinched at the nickname, quick to move on before he could call you out on it. It had been merely a slip of the tongue, just shortening his name for the sake of convenience. It could have been a gesture of friendship towards the android, though you weren’t sure you’d quite earned the right to call Vision a friend, even if you were fond of him. “I’ve got like 10 bucks, tops.” You pulled a few crumpled bills from your pockets to emphasize your point. You obviously couldn’t use your credit card, either. You’d seen enough movies to know that.

Vision thought a moment before coming up with an idea. “It’s not the most ethical thing to do, but I could get cash out of an ATM. It’s technically a matter of survival, after all.” He demonstrated exactly what he meant by phasing his hand through the paper as you read, something that could just as easily be done to a cash machine.

It wasn’t so much the legality of the idea that bothered you. After all, you’d stolen multiple cars. It was the matter of Vision’s safety. Not that he couldn’t protect himself but he would be spotted quite easily if he went outside. That was just a matter of fact. And if someone called the police on a strange magenta man or anything along the lines of ‘robot,’ you could pretty much guarantee trouble. “I don’t know... What if someone sees you? The last thing we want is to compromise the safe house. I can just wait awhile longer, I’ll be fine.”

Your stomach chose that moment to grumble again, completely undermining your point. Vision shot you a look that more than sufficed to communicate what he was thinking but he wrote it down anyway. “It would seem we don’t have much of a choice.”

You sighed, all but forced to agree. Although, it would be nice to get some actual food before your stomach started eating itself. “Fine,” you relented. “But we wait until it gets dark out. It’s safer that way.”

Vision wasn’t about to argue.

Memorization wasn’t really your strong suit, but you seemed to do surprisingly well with the start of your sign language lessons. It helped that your teacher was so patient.

Vision thought it would be best to start with a few simple phrases for the sake of saving paper. Common things such as ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you.’ You had the benefit of only really needing to recognize them as opposed to being able to do the signs yourself, since Vision could obviously hear you, but you took it upon yourself to mimic the gestures anyway.

It had been a few hours and your head was starting to ache but you insisted on continuing. You were certain you were doing well and you wanted Vision to be impressed. Not only could you remember how to spell your own name, you could spell his as well. The rest of the alphabet may not have stuck as much but oh well. For now, words and phrases were more important.

“That’s... someone?” You guessed as Vision held up his index finger and waved it in a sort of circle. He’d been quizzing you for a few minutes now, to which you’d done pretty well. He shook his head this time, however, and tried not to look amused by the almost comically offended look on your face. “What? Yes it is! I’m certain that means ‘someone!’” You were insistent on the fact. Vision hadn’t tried to trip you up yet but he must be this time. You tried to mimic the motion, repeating the word as if that would change anything.

He shook his head again, not bothering to hide his smile this time. He reached for your hand, raising it higher to show you that there was, in fact, a slight difference between what he was signing and what you were. For a moment, you looked almost startled, like a deer in headlights. He didn’t miss the hint of color that tinged your cheeks. His assumption was merely that you were embarrassed by your mistake, though it was an easy one to make. He switched back to paper in order to explain. “This,” he repeated his first gesture. “means ‘always’. What you signed was ‘someone.’ See the difference?”

You nodded in understanding although your attention was beginning to drift. You felt like you were cramming for an exam in a class you hadn’t been attending. You may or may not have actually had to do that before. The point was, you’d learned just about all you were going to for the day. And just in time, it seemed, as you glanced toward the curtains, no longer backlit by the afternoon sun. You’d managed to kill most of the day, between checking that the computer was still working and just generally talking with Vision. There wasn’t much else to do, not that you were complaining. You were quite enjoying the android’s company and not just because you were stuck with him. And to top it off, you’d managed to distract yourself from how hungry you were. Until now, that is.

“How about we call it a day on the lessons, hm? I’d say now’s about the best time to head outside. There’s just one thing we have to do first.” You turned and exited the room without explanation, only saying you’d be right back. You ran upstairs to the bedroom, hoping you could find what you needed. You hadn’t voiced your plan to Vision, although you saw no reason for him not to go along with it. It was a smart idea if you said so yourself. At least that’s what you told yourself as you began rifling through drawers.

Vision wasn’t sure what to think at first when you came bumbling down the stairs again with a messily folded bundle in your hands. But your intention became clear quite quickly once you’d returned, immediately holding out the clothes to him before bothering to explain.

“I hope this isn’t rude but you kind of… stand out. I just thought, maybe it’d be a good idea to disguise yourself. Just for safety. Is that okay?” You hoped there was no offense taken by the gesture. In truth, you were glad Vision was going with you and not just because of the money thing. You didn’t feel particularly safe walking the streets alone at night, especially when you didn’t know the area. But having Vision by your side made you feel nigh invincible. There was just the small issue of technically being wanted criminals.

He smiled, more to himself than anything. It was just strange, he thought, how concerned you were with his opinion. Of course he wasn’t offended. It was a smart idea. He chuckled a bit, although it was a strange action given his physical state. The motion of a laugh was there, his shoulders shuddering as any human’s would despite his lack of need to actually breathe, but there was no sound. It was one of those mannerisms that was ingrained in his programming, though he wasn’t sure quite where it came from. Not from Jarvis, certainly, since the AI had no physical form, and Ultron likely hadn’t been terribly focused on such gestures at the time of his creation. In reality, it was simply something he’d picked up on his own, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

You let out a breathy chuckle of your own as he took the clothes, glad to see he agreed with you wholeheartedly. He got dressed quickly, leaving only his face visible when he was done. Luckily, it was cold enough outside for him to get away with wearing gloves, a scarf and a hat. The clothes were a bit old-fashioned but in a professional way. The long wool coat and slacks in particular gave the impression of a scholarly type, perhaps even a professor. You couldn’t help but think it was a good look for him.

“Well don’t you look just dashing,” you teased. You’d found a coat for yourself as well, deciding your own jacket wasn’t going to be enough. You silently thanked whatever SHIELD employee set this place up for supplying a myriad of spare clothes. “Oh, one more thing.” You turned to the coat rack by the door, grabbing a scarf that had been left hanging there. “Just in case.”

You hesitated at the front door. Despite the fact that you were merely going to look for a convenience store or something similar, your anxiety spiked as though it were a dangerous mission. You could just imagine all the ways you could get caught. It was almost enough to make you stay here, slowly starving to death waiting for something to happen. Vision noticed your apprehension, however, and did the first thing that came to mind to soothe your worries. He gave you a warm smile, holding out a bent arm for you to take. He thought you might find the somewhat old-fashioned gesture funny and he was right. You laughed, taking his arm anyway. It was a nice reminder that the odds of anything bad happening were tremendously low, which you mentally repeated to yourself as you stepped outside.

Everything had gone off without a hitch. There was a small grocery store a few blocks down which you’d run into just before closing time so the store was nearly empty. Vision had waited outside near the ATM, which had provided the funds you needed. Other than the bored clerk at the store, you hadn’t seen so much as a single soul this whole trip. By the time you and Vision were walking back, burdened by just a few days worth of groceries (which would ideally be more than enough), your previous worries had all but melted away.

You only wished the weather matched the feeling. Nothing was melting in this cold. In fact, a few snowflakes had begun to fall. They were almost mesmerizing under the blueish haze of the streetlights, whipped into a frenzy by the faintest of gusts. The sight wasn’t enough of a distraction, however. You couldn’t help it when a shiver wracked your body, your coat not doing nearly enough to prevent it. Vision noticed this, however, and stopped you both in your tracks.

He was quick to reach for the paper and pen in his coat pocket, a look on his face of more concern than you thought necessary. It was only a little chill. “Are you cold?” The question wasn’t particularly necessary, the answer being obvious. Still, it was polite to ask.

You tried to shrug it off, noticeably tensing to suppress a second shiver. “I’m fine. Let’s just hurry back.” You turned to keep walking, knowing there was still a decent walk ahead but he stopped you, putting a hand on your arm for the briefest of seconds. He just looked at you a moment, seeming to forget about his paper. You caught the faintest hint of conflict in his expression, though you didn’t know why. “What is it, Vision?”

Realizing he’d made you worry, Vision seemed to snap back to his senses. He gave you a reassuring smile and reached for his scarf, undoing it quickly. You were facing him, standing close enough to see the circuitry in his eyes. He paused again, however, debating his next action. For a being that didn’t have nerves, he sure felt nervous and didn’t fully understand why. He moved at a pace far slower than he was used to, hesitantly wrapping the scarf around your neck for you. His touch was light as a feather as if he were afraid to touch you. You could do nothing but watch him, lost in the details of his eyes and face as your grip on the grocery bags began to loosen involuntarily. There was a moment where neither of you moved, his hands still lingering on the loose fabric of the scarf.

Your heart skipped a beat at the gesture, mind racing to find a logical conclusion that didn’t concern such things as the vague and confusing emotions that spiked in your chest just then. It was cold, so Vision gave you his scarf. Your hands were full, so he put it on for you. But what you couldn’t answer was why he lingered the way that he did and more importantly, why your chest began to feel tight in a way that wasn’t as unpleasant as you’d think. The most sensible reason you could think of was that he was simply a gentleman, and perhaps a little unfamiliar with personal boundaries. That was the only possibility you had the strength to consider. Anything else would open doors you were afraid to even imagine.

Footsteps scraping heavily against the pavement cut the tender, if rather nerve-filled moment short. You turned toward the sound, though Vision remained facing slightly away, bowing his head somewhat in an attempt to conceal himself. You froze when a figure emerged from the alleyway; a heavy-set man whose posture listed to one side, most likely from some kind of injury. His clothes were noticeably old and ragged, most definitely not warm enough for this weather. You would’ve asked him if he needed help were it not for the knife he brandished at you.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” he said, his voice wavering. Funny, you were just about to say the same thing. Clearly, he wouldn’t be doing this unless he was desperate and in a bad situation. Unfortunately, you weren’t much better off. “I saw you, I know you have cash. Just hand it over and no one gets hurts.”

Under normal circumstances you would’ve complied but you’d used up pretty much all the cash you got and you couldn’t risk giving him your wallet. If your ID found its way into police hands there’d be government agents swarming this place before you ever got the chance to bail. “We don’t have any money left, I swear. Please, just walk away.” You moved slowly, setting the grocery bags on the ground and raising your hands in surrender without making any sudden movements that could set him off. You weren’t as afraid as you probably should’ve been, choosing to try and reason with the man rather than flee, which would probably be the smarter option.

The man stepped closer to you, his grip on the knife visibly tightening. He was nearly within arm’s reach now which wasn’t ideal but you held your ground. Vision caught the man’s movement out of the corner of his eye, his hand reflexively grabbing at your arm protectively. The man furrowed his brow, glancing between the two of you in confusion. At this distance, even without Vision facing him, he could almost definitely tell something was strange here. Having given you his scarf, the only things covering Vision’s face were a hat and upturned coat collar. You spoke up again, drawing the man’s attention before he could get too close of a look. “This doesn’t have to get messy. Please… ”

You weren’t sure exactly how long the three of you stood there, time frozen around you. The only things that moved were the snowflakes that had grown more frequent in the past couple minutes. The man finally shifted, albeit barely, one foot scraping harshly against the concrete as he braced himself. He glanced between you and Vision again, jaw clenched tightly. “I ain’t walking away empty-handed. I can’t. Just gimme your damn wallet.”

Vision tugged gently on your arm. You weren’t sure exactly what he was trying to say, either trying to pull you closer to him or signal that you should run. You didn’t think running was a good idea. You feared Vision’s injuries acting up again and you didn’t want to test your own speed either. You turned back to the man, desperately pleading at this point. “I can’t …”

“Then I’ll just have to take it from you.” He didn’t give you another chance to argue, immediately lunging at you haphazardly. He couldn’t even get close to hitting you, however, as Vision’s reflexes were far superior to the man’s. The android grabbed his arm, twisting it painfully to the side and forcing him to drop the knife. The man yelped and threw a punch at Vision, who dodged it easily. The man didn’t seem to understand just how drastically outmatched he was, not even now that he had a clear view of Vision’s face. Whatever was going through his head, he still seemed to think fighting was his best option. He took another swing at Vision who, up until this point, had no intention of fighting back. But he was left with few other options. He pushed back against his attacker, sending the man sprawling to the ground with a painful ‘smack’ as he hit the pavement. There was genuine fear in his eyes when he looked back up at the two of you.

“Vis, we gotta go.” It was you holding his arm now, pleading with him to leave. He nodded quickly, completely in agreement. The two of you paused only long enough to scoop up the dropped grocery bags before making your escape. The man didn’t dare follow you as you disappeared down a side street, desperate to avoid any more prying eyes. This was the exact sort of thing you’d been afraid of when you’d left the safe house. You could only hope the man kept his mouth shut about what he’d witnessed tonight but it seemed luck may not be on your side.

A/N: I want to mention that I don’t personally know much ASL and had to rely on videos, etc. so if anything at all is wrong, I apologize. Feel free to call me out.

#vision/reader #vision x reader #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction

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sirowsky · 3 years

Text

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, kidnapping, torture (not the gory kind), angst, buried trauma.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: You have a woman that seriously hurt you, at your mercy, and you’re struggling with how far to take it. Meanwhile, Marcus realises he’s going to have to save you from yourself, if he can find you in time.

Chapter 43

You waited for her to wake up for almost thirty minutes, and that was after you’d taken her to the abandoned warehouse, and secured her to a solid metal post that used to connect the floor to the ceiling. You didn’t know exactly what kind of tranquilizer Tech had used, but it sure was potent. Her feet were still tied together and you’d placed her on her knees with her back to the post. Her arms were strung up above her head on either side of the post, and secured individually, to ensure she couldn’t use either hand to untie the other. Her head hung low between her shoulders and her body seemed completely limp. If not for her slow and even breathing, you’d have thought she was already dead.

***

After your phone had gone to voicemail for the third time, Marcus lost it. He’d been working on dismantling the containers, no longer needed, while he waited for Aidan to finish his task, and for you to call him. He didn’t do well with idle hands when he was worried about something, and there was so much at stake right now. Then his phone had beeped, and as he’d read the message, his blood had turned to ice. He’d immediately tried calling you back, but he was routed straight to your recorded voice declaring that you were indisposed at the moment. Desperate to believe that you wouldn’t do this, that you weren’t cruel enough to do what his mind was telling him were the only reasons you would have taken off with the believed head of the entire organisation you were trying to bring down, he tried again. The third time was just dumb, but he really was losing it. He ran back to Tech.

“I need you to track my wife, right now! Her phone, car, fucking watch – anything!”

“What? Why? What’s going on?”

“She took off with Kane, we have to find her before she does something she can’t come back from.”

“She wouldn’t do that, Marcus. She started all of this because she wants the pain and deaths to stop. She’s a good person.”

“Yes, she is. But Kane very nearly killed our baby, and as much as I hope that she’s strong enough to resist, I know that the mother in her is the most powerful part of her, and she’s gonna wanna hurt Kane. Even if she doesn’t kill her, she might still torture her, and I can’t let her do that. It would never stop haunting her, specifically because she is a good person. Please, Tech.”

“Okay, okay. Let me see what I can find.”

Marcus was beside himself with worry, and his mind was grasping at anything it could to distract itself, while there was nothing he could do but wait.

“Where are we with the operation?”

Tech answered him at the same time as he typed impossibly fast on his laptop, and various windows were popping up and disappearing on the screen.

“Only six more cities left to confirm completion. All the others have been successful.”

“I’ll check on the kid.”

He walked over to where Aidan sat on the same spot in the grass. The boy was pale and bathing in cold sweat, breathing hard and visibly trembling with the effort it had taken out of him. With so few locations left, he had been able to let go of most of the birds, but he was exhausted and still had hundreds of birds left to direct for a while yet. Marcus knew that Aidan’s fate mattered to you, and it did to him as well, so he sat down next to him, and put his arm over the kid’s shoulders. He just wanted to convey that he was there and that he cared, and Aidan seemed to feel it, because his discomfort lessened a bit.

“I found the car!”

Tech’s voice reached him from across the field, and he got up, but not before whispering ‘hang in there, kid’ to the boy. Then he sprinted back to his friend’s station.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know what the hell she did with her phone, but I can’t see it at all. I had to break into her car’s emergency alert system, and trick it into believing there’d been an accident, to get it to reveal the coordinates. It’s parked on a street on the edge of a warehouse district, but she could be in any one of a hundred different abandoned structures on that lot.”

“Just send me those coordinates, I’ll find her.”

***

When she finally did wake up, you felt oddly calm. As though something inside you relished the thought that she was about to wake up to a real-life nightmare. Somewhere deep inside, you knew that you should be disgusted with yourself for reacting like that, but your hatred towards this woman was clouding your mind, and darkening your heart. But just knowing that wasn’t enough to make you wanna stop. Her head twitched first, and then her hands, as she tried to move against her restraints. When she realised that she was unable to, she tried to lift her head, but she was still groggy, and her nerves weren’t responding normally, resulting in a clumsy few bobs of her head before she managed to draw it back to rest against the post. She was still too groggy to speak, but you saw the recognition in her eyes when they fell on you, and there was surprise in there as well, which pleased you more than it should have.

“Hi. I’d say it’s good to see you, Emily, but it just isn’t. I don’t even know what to say to you yet. I’ve been sitting here for half an hour thinking about what I wanna say… or just do, to you, and I still don’t know. But we have time. I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

“You… have no.. idea… what… you’re doing.”

“And why is that? Because you experiment on people against their will, and have no problems with being complicit to mass-murder, if not committing it yourself? Or is it because you’re the leader of a covert organisation of hundreds of agents that do all of that on your behest?”

She was regaining control of her body, and you could see the contempt in her face as it dawned on her just how much you’d already figured out.

“How?”

Her tone was demanding and arrogant, and as the façade of the benign doctor fell away, you didn’t even recognise her face anymore.

“You told me. Through my subconscious. Word of advice: if you’re gonna give people powers, having no idea what they might turn out to be, don’t show them your fucking face.”

“Those memories... were removed. The super who took them… he never fails.”

“He left behind just enough that my powers could recreate a single image for me. But that was enough.”

“Well, congratulations, you figured it out. You’ll never stop us; our organisation has grown exponentially.”

“The Society of Inferiority Complex, yeah, we know.”

“How mature…”

“An acronym that spelled SIC (sick) was just too appropriate to pass up.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you call us. Before long, you’ll be introduced into a world where everyone is just as powerful as you. You won’t be so smug then.”

You got up from the crate you’d been sitting on, and stepped right up to her so you could squat down and face her at eye-level, mere inches away from her.

“Tonight, hundreds of our operatives have kidnapped hundreds of yours, just like I did with you. We’ve been monitoring your activities for months, mapping your movements, documenting your labs and temporary offices all over the world. You never even knew how many supers live covert lives in today’s society, did you? Well, we found hundreds of them, and after hearing what you did to me, and to those children, they all volunteered to help us. Your own actions created an army of superpowered people hellbent on destroying you. Did you really think you’d be able to beat us? All you’ve done is unite us.”

“Aren’t you clever, little Rainbow. But, tell me… If you’re such a good girl – why’d you bring me out here? All alone. Where no one can hear us.”

You pulled back just a few inches, but her question only managed to wake all the anger inside you back to roaring life. If she really wanted to know the answer, you’d happily show her.

“Because you tried to kill my baby.”

You dropped all pretence, and allowed your powers to flare freely. The concrete under your feet snapped and cracked, sending long trailing crevices through the floor. Time and erosion had created flaws from underneath, that meant that large sections dropped several inches in some places, sending thunderous rumbles through the whole area. But you didn’t care. Ordinarily, your mind automatically shielded anything living, standing in your vicinity, when you flooded this dimension with the denser energy of the others that you had access to. Otherwise, you’d destroy every living cell around you by forcibly compressing them until they were crushed. And, ordinarily, that wasn’t something you wanted to be responsible for. But not this time. You merely sat there, hands clenched into fists, staring at her, seeing only those eyes that had looked at you with such fondness while you worked with her. Those eyes that had fooled you so completely. You wanted to rip them out of her head.

“Good show. But we both know you don’t have what it takes to…”

Your stillness was an illusion. You were slowly gathering an increasing amount of energy into the air around her, and as the space got more and more crowded, her whole body was slowly being crushed. She fell silent mid-sentence when she realised that your stare was in no way harmless, and a minute later, the first scream escaped her.

***

The car was unlocked when Marcus got to it. The keys were still in the ignition, and on the front passenger-seat he found a contorted piece of metal and plastic and glass that had probably been your phone. All the materials had melded together as you’d forced them to compact more than they were actually structurally able to. That was a bad sign, if he’d ever seen one. There was nothing else in or around the car that could indicate which way you’d taken your prisoner, and the odds that you’d have stayed close enough to be able to hear him if he shouted for you from there, were non-existent. Using his current, he tried to sense your energy, and was almost startled at how strong a trail he discovered. But, of course, he should’ve known that you’d use your ghost hands to move Kane, to prevent leaving marks on the ground, as well as make it easier for yourself. He started following the signature of your powers, so familiar to him by now, and it led him into the very heart of the labyrinth of old run-down buildings and factories. But when he got to a certain point, the energy suddenly quadrupled, snaking off in four different directions.

“Oh, for god’s sake, woman… Give me a chance, at least.”

A terrifyingly loud rumbling, accompanied by what very well could’ve been an earthquake, but wasn’t, came from his left, and without hesitating he ran towards it. The ground was split open and uneven and half-collapsed buildings lined the roads that he followed to get to you. But he still had to run for hundreds of yards until he reached the structure that it seemed to be coming from, based on the directions of the cracks under his feet. Realising how far you’d allowed your energy to reach, he was once again amazed at just how powerful you were, but also petrified that it might mean he was already too late. As he made his way inside the lightly trembling warehouse, he heard blood-curdling screams coming from somewhere inside, and his heart fell. But if she was screaming, she was still alive, which meant he still had time. When he got to the right place, it was like walking into a nightmare. There was no ceiling above you and no lights were working, leaving the room basking in nothing but the pale and ghostly moonlight. You’d somehow twisted the whole room so that nothing was straight anymore. Posts and beams and even the walls, were all bent or curved or twisted around themselves or something else. The ground had risen in some places, and fallen in others. It felt like he was walking into a physical representation of what your mind looked like right now. And in a way, he supposed it was. Kane was still alive, but whatever you were doing to her was painful to the extent that she was shaking uncontrollably against her restraints, pleading like a child for you to stop, in between fits of vomiting and convulsing. And you were so calm. So viciously calm it was heart-breaking to him. You just sat in front of her, one knee resting on the ground, the other under your elbow, watching her as though you were a cliff and she was the ocean, thrashing against you with all her might, but unable to move your solid frame even a single inch. If he hadn’t known how much this was actually hurting you, he might’ve found it fascinating. But he knew you so well that all he could see, was his beloved wife being destroyed.

***

“Hermosa.”

His voice came to you like a butterfly against a hurricane. Like soft whispers carried on those wings, so faint, but still able to drown out that howling wind in your ears. Your eyes automatically turned to find his, and the pain that was already overwhelming your heart, seemed to double. This wasn’t who you were, you knew that. Every fibre of your being knew that, but you’d forced them into silence with your anger. Used your pain as a shield against all those voices telling you to stop. But Marcus… seeing him look at you with that much fear… Not the fears you’d seen before, when he’d thought he was losing you, or when you were injured or being threatened, or the fear that you wouldn’t love him anymore after he walked away from you. No, this time he wasn’t afraid for you – he was afraid of you. Of just what you were capable of, how far you were willing to go, how much darkness you were willing to let into your heart to try and be free of the pain that festered in there. Your powers were draining you fast. You’d made no attempt to hold them back at all, and if you stopped now, all that exhaustion would come crashing over you, and you’d be unable to finish what you’d started. But what had you started? What was it you were hoping to achieve here? You’d wanted to hear her scream, and you had. You’d wanted to hurt her like she hurt you, and you had. But did you want her to die? Were you willing to become a murderer just so that you didn’t have to see the falseness of her face ever again? Confused, but no less angry, you forced your gaze away from your husband, and refocused on Kane, pulling even more energy out to thicken around her until one of her shoulders was pushed out of alignment with the amount of force bearing down on her. The harsh popping sound was loud enough to reach Marcus’ ears, and her resulting scream made him close the distance between you, while he started begging you to stop.

“Please… this is wrong, you know that, mi amor.”

“You know, I remember thinking that if there had just been someone there to stop my torturer, I could’ve been spared so much pain and fear. And then I found out someone was there, but she did nothing to help me. She just watched and enjoyed the show. So, why should I treat her any better? Why should she be spared that pain?”

Your energy already filled the room, and half the damned district, so when the images started appearing, they didn’t just show up around you, they flooded the whole area. Every memory you had of every moment that had hurt you, throughout your whole life. There were hundreds of them.

“The tears I’ve shed could build a lake. Tell me what I’ve done to deserve that. How could anyone do anything bad enough to deserve all of this?”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, hermosa. Life just doesn’t work like that.”

“Then I should at least get to avenge myself!”

Her other shoulder popped, and she squealed and wailed until her voice gave up and she just sobbed instead. Marcus moved even closer, just a few yards away from you now.

“You should. You should get to avenge all the terrible things that have been done to you, but you never can. All you can do, is hurt yourself instead. I know you’re forcing yourself not to feel it right now, but this hurts you. You want it to feel good, to make you feel better, but it won’t, because you’re a good person. You are a good person, hermosa. That’s why I married you, that’s why you’re carrying my child, and that’s why my daughter loves you.”

Missy. Fuck. Why’d he have to mention her?

“Please, sweetheart. Don’t make me watch you destroy yourself. I already lost one wife… I need you to let me keep you.”

His voice was so frail by the end of that sentence that you feared a mere breath might break it apart. And yet, his words held so much power. They forced their way under your skin, cooling your blood and pushing the anger out. But the pain was still just as strong. Desperate to get rid of it, to be free of everything that haunted you, you collapsed on the ground, and enormous quantities of your sparkling dust poured out of you, flooding the room in every direction, flowing unhindered through all that energy that you’d pumped into it. The images were still there, snapshots of the worst moments of your life, the one’s that caused you more pain than you could ever voice, and you wished that you could make them solid. That you could pull them out of yourself completely and leave them behind in that room. The dust pulled the images apart, turning them into three-dimensional representations of themselves, while you watched, actually seeing the magic happen for the first time. When the sculptures were finished, they solidified, just like before. A single tear escaped your left eye as you saw your very worst memories turned into some sort of bizarre museum-exhibit all around you. It rolled swiftly down your cheek, and with the way you were sitting, it should’ve hit the top of your left hand, holding you up from the ground. But it never landed. Instead, it hovered mid-air for a few seconds, before splitting into dozens of smaller drops, that each flew away to one of the sculptures. And as the drops made contact with them, the sculptures turned to stone. Transparent, and still sparkling in every colour on the spectrum, but unmistakably more solid than just the dust. Once again, your powers had tried to give you what you asked for, what you needed the most. If only the memories could’ve been trapped inside those statues as well. If only you actually could get up, walk away and leave them behind forever. Strong arms encircled you as Marcus pulled you off the ground and into his chest, and you finally gave in. Now that you allowed yourself to feel it, you were completely spent. You wanted to say something to him, but he didn’t need an explanation, he understood everything, you knew that.

“Marcus… I’m sorry…”

He just kissed your forehead and held you closer, but if he said anything, you passed out before you could hear what it was.

Author’s Note: As always, I love criticism, please don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@allmyspideys @blueeyesatnight @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog @giselatropicana @ayamenimthiriel

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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isis-astarte-diana · 3 years

Text

Tetchy

Summary: “Tetchy tonight, Mandy.” Miranda pushes your buttons. You push back.

Warnings: NSFW. M(iranda)IHOW. (I need a new acronym! Why does everyone’s name have to start with the same letter?) Mildly dub!con, possibly. Knifeplay with bad BDSM etiquette. Violence. Painful sex (at this point, I don’t know if I can not write it). Semi-public sex(?). Name calling. One (1) use of Daddy, but it’s in jest. Very dodgy relationship dynamics, including references to stalking. Also, I make some non-sexual references to peeing, because it’s a stakeout and I think about these things.

Word Count: 3057

NB: It has come to my attention that there is some serious brat erasure in my smut. Can’t have that, can we? Also this is the first time I’ve been able to write a normal human person and I’ve had a lot of fun with the playful dialogue and the swearing. Sorry. And, uh, I’m sticking with darlin’ for Miranda because every single time a Scottish woman has called me darlin’ I have combusted slightly.

“Would you stop showing off?”

Miranda shoots you a sideways glance, her gloved hand never pausing in its relentless manipulation of the butterfly knife. She wrinkles her nose and flashes a contemptuous smirk. “Am I showing off?”

“You know that you are.” Once more, the swish, the click, the endless rhythm to her frustration. “And the noise is doing my head in.”

“Noise?” Swish. Click. Swish. Click. Your fingers twitch into a tense fist. “What noise would that be?”

Huffing, you turn away from her, staring out of the passenger side window into the gloom of the multi-storey car park. The car is shrouded in darkness, the nearest fluorescent light sputtering with a sickly greenish glow a good few yards away. “I had so many better plans for tonight.”

“No you didn’t.” Swish. Click. You wish that she would cut her fucking hand, but the glove would take the brunt of it and she’d probably just carry on out of spite. “I know what you’ve been up to, darlin’, remember? No secrets here.”

You can feel her eyes on the back of your neck now, and the reminder that she watches you shouldn’t have a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, but it does. There’s something of a thrill to knowing that every part of your day, however tedious - buying a coffee, crossing the road, wandering around a bookshop without choosing anything - is now a performance. Miranda does not like to be out of the loop; and, admittedly, coming home to find a bag of your favourite muffins - the ones you’d eyed in the coffee shop before deciding not to treat yourself - or a copy of the book you’d almost bought waiting for you on the kitchen table is, bizarrely, rather sweet.

Sweeter, now that you’ve given her a spare key to the flat after having to call the landlord for the third time in less than a month to explain that the lock on the front door had been mysteriously damaged yet again.

“They’re obviously not coming,” you mutter, unabashedly petulant. “Can’t we just go?”

“We’ve barely been here half an hour.” Swish. Click. She sighs, sounding far more annoyed with you than anyone who’s being as irritating as she is has any right to. Swish. Click. “Fuckin’ hell, give it a bit longer.”

“Right. Fine.” Your jaw clenches. Desperate for any excuse to get out of the car and away from her, you snap, “I’m going for a piss.”

When your fingers loop into the door handle and wrench it slightly too hard, nothing happens. You try it again. A mechanism inside the door judders and grinds with a tell-tale noise and you whip around to face her. She’s staring straight ahead, through the windshield and into the dark, with a smug look in her eyes.

“Did you put the child locks on?”

Miranda has the audacity not to laugh while she plays with the knife and says sternly, “safety first.”

“Very fucking funny.” You eye the button in her door that controls the lock. You could reach it, quite easily, but doing so would mean sticking your hand into the blur of the swinging blade. “Open it.”

She doesn’t even look at you. “Nah.”

“Open it, or I’ll scream.”

“Go for it.” It’s toneless. “Anyone comes, I’ll kill them.”

You scoff. “No you won’t.”

“Might do.” She says it like you’ve dared her. “Would serve you right. You’ve been getting on my tits all night.”

Your voice is an indignant squeak. “I’ve been-?! Fuck, alright.” Folding your arms, you snort, “maybe you should put one of your tapes on, babe.”

It’s a low blow and you know it. She falters, just for a second, before starting up the infuriating pattern with the knife again, even quicker now. “Don’t.”

It feels dangerously good to see that you’ve had an effect. “Oh, you’re so scary.” Turning back to the window, you point out, “you’re just like one of those dickheads in a meeting who won’t stop clicking a pen, you know. Always fucks me off. Always just makes me want to-”

You can’t finish the thought.

With serpentine speed she’s grabbing a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back until you’re staring up at the soft grey ceiling of the car. Your hands find the locked door handle, the seat cushion, holding onto them with white knuckles to keep from slumping across the handbrake from the force. You’re twisted awkwardly in your seat, your back aching in protest at the angle, but you can’t suppress a laugh.

“Something funny?” Her voice is low as she brings the knife around in front of you so that you can see it. A loose strand of her hair tickles your forehead when the flat of the blade comes to rest over your exposed throat.

It’s cold, and smooth, and you can just barely feel the sharp edges of it. Breathless for more than one reason, you tease, “tetchy tonight, Mandy.”

“Oh, don’t call me that, darlin’.” She presses harder, hard enough that you can feel your pulse where it touches you. This position puts some pressure on your windpipe so that it’s distinctly uncomfortable. Still, you push on.

“Don’t call me darlin’, Mandy.”

“Think I’ll call you what I fuckin’ like, you mental little bitch.” She pulls on your hair again and you mewl at the wash of prickling pain across your scalp. “Take your pants off, then.”

The words inflame you, but you’re not finished playing, not after spending half an hour with her deliberately pushing your buttons. Echoing her, you sneer, “nah.”

“Please yourself.”

Before you can react the knife is gone and she’s pushing you forwards, letting go in time to send your forehead smacking into the passenger side window. It makes light burst behind your eyes. You swear under your breath, rubbing the impact site with one hand.

Behind you, her door opens and closes.

You barely glimpse her through the windshield before she’s wrenching your door open and reaching for you, fisting the front of your dress in one gloved hand, tugging hard enough to make the fabric dig into your skin as she hauls you gracelessly out of the car and to your feet. You almost bang your head on the doorframe, so sudden is this assault.

“I can-” you cover her hand with yours, trying to ease up on her grip. “I can stand up on my own, for fuck’s sake, get off me-”

“Or what, you’ll scream?” She flashes the knife again, teeth glistening in her mirthless grin to match it. “Thought we’d been through that already.”

You offer some perfunctory resistance while she shuts the door and manoeuvres you around to the back of the car, but the heady thrill of finally having her attention dulls your attempts to escape her hands. In a moment of bravery you reach for the butterfly clip that fastens her hair back and yank it loose. It must hurt - it’s supposed to hurt - but she just laughs.

“You’re such a pain in the arse, d’you know that?” Supple leather wraps around your wrist and your left arm is twisted brutally up behind your back. You grit your teeth to withhold a cry. “That big mouth’s gonna get you into trouble one day.”

Even as she turns you around and pushes you down over the boot of the car, the impact knocking the wind out of you as the hairclip falls to the ground with a clatter of plastic on concrete, you manage to bite back, “that’s the idea.”

Outside the semi-security of the car it’s bitterly cold and black as pitch. The smooth surface of it chills you to the bone and makes you shiver; this, though, is nothing compared to the tremor that runs down your spine when she leans down to cover your back with her chest, loose hair brushing your neck, lips close to your ear.

“Are you gonna shut up or do I need to teach you a lesson?” She punctuates the words by slamming her other hand down on the boot of the car where you can see it, the knife still gripped tightly in her leather-clad fingers. The sight of it makes you push back against her, shifting your arse as provocatively as you can with her pinning you down like this.

In the whiniest, most abrasive voice you can put on, you retort, “are you gonna take your belt off, daddy?”

“You’re fucked in the head.” It’s nothing short of a snarl, her hand tightening around your restrained wrist, but there’s no shortage of affection in it. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? If I turned your arse bright red, right here, while you cried and begged me to stop.”

“You think fucking highly of yourself,” you scoff, weakened by the thought that she might actually do it. “Why don’t you suck it and see?”

“Because I’m not in the mood to play your games, darlin’.” She leaves the knife there, within reach of your free hand, while she tugs the hem of your dress up past your hips, and picks it up once more when you’re bared to the waist save for your underwear. “I’d rather play one of mine.”

Your squirming stops when the blade slides under the fabric of your knickers, tight to the outside of your thigh. It doesn’t cut you, but it scratches, and it disturbs you to know that she isn’t even looking while she does it. “Do not cut my pants off,” you warn, aiming for stern and falling short.

“Think I will.”

“This isn’t porn, Miranda, I paid good fucking money for these and I will be so pissed off-”

You cut off with a furious groan when she does it anyway, the material stretching away from your skin and then fluttering loose with the motion of the knife through it.

“You’re such a bitch sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” Seamlessly she changes hands, one still pinning you down, the other now going for the opposite side of your underwear. “I need to try harder.”

She slices through the other leg, her gloved fingers brushing your thigh when she snatches the fabric up into her hand before it can fall to the ground. Her task complete, she retrieves the knife and finally, finally closes it, slipping it back into her pocket. Her leg slides between yours, the cotton of her trousers pressing insistently up against your vulva in a way that almost makes you forget your displeasure.

“Shame.” She clicks her tongue. “I liked these ones.”

You writhe against the boot of the car. “So did I!”

“Say your goodbyes, then.” Once more, she leans down, proffering the fabric now clutched in her gloved hand. “Open wide.”

You jerk away, but not quickly enough, and she stuffs your ruined underwear into your mouth, pushing it deeper with her fingers until you almost choke on it. It’s not a merciful gag - the material steals the saliva from your mouth, and the taste of your own arousal is thick on your tongue; while the sound of her messing around with the knife is infuriating, the sight of it never fails to affect you.

“Much better.” She covers your full mouth with her hand and gives your face a painful squeeze. You cough weakly around the fabric. “Bet you taste good, don’t you?”

Your face heats under her hand at the words.

Miranda almost tugs your shoulder clear from the boot of the car when she pulls back, straightening up once more, still holding you down by your twisted arm. It’s starting to ache. Her other hand squeezes between her thigh and your own, palming you without care or ceremony, and you grip the edge of the bumper with your free hand for stability. The touch makes your legs quake.

Even with the leather of her glove smeared with your arousal, it still burns when she presses two fingers inside of you.

You cry out into the gag, arching your back, hand slapping down on the car boot with enough force to make your palm hurt. She knows that you hate this, that however slick and supple the leather might be it’s still not fit for this purpose. The thickness of the glove broadens and blunts her fingers, turning the familiar invasion clumsy and rough. With a soft chuckle she pushes them deeper.

Your eyes prickle with tears from the sensation. There’s something unnatural about it, the leather dragging at the delicate membranes of your cunt like this, but being filled and stretched around her fingers still makes your walls throb and tighten.

“Not your favourite game, is it?” Her voice is low. You shake your head emphatically, whining into the makeshift gag. She soothes you without softening. “It’s alright, it’s alright. I’m not gonna hurt you much. Not if I don’t have to.”

You sniffle pitifully and twist under her hand when she slowly withdraws.

“But you do deserve it.”

The upthrust is punishing, lifting your hips with its force, making your abdomen clench as her fingers slam into the patch of nerves at the front of your walls. Your legs twitch, tensing, trying to escape the assault. Your neglected clitoris throbs in time with your pulse.

“D’you want me to stop?”

Without even thinking about it, you shriek a muffled sound of disagreement into the gag, shaking your head again. She laughs.

“Didn’t think so.”

The rhythm she takes up is slow, but no kinder for it. She makes a point of putting her weight behind her wrist every time she fills you, so that even when the dull discomfort of the leather is eased by the slick arousal flooding your cunt the ache never quite goes away. All the while she holds you down, trembling in the cold and the unforgiving dark, dry mouth stuffed with fabric, breathing in the taste of your own desire.

“Touch yourself for me.” Something dark stirs in her tone. Her breaths are heavy, a reassuring indication that she’s enjoying this in her own way. You obey immediately.

This, too, is awkward, wriggling your hand under your hips where she has you bent over the car, and your wrist is trapped between your stomach and the edge of the boot. Your fingers are freezing from the exposure when you finally manage to press them to your clitoris, shock making your walls draw tighter around her fingers as she fucks you.

You overcome it quickly enough.

It doesn’t take long to drag yourself over that edge, your fingertips working frantically against the flesh that feels scalding in its wet heat. She manipulates you from the inside, crooking her fingers skilfully, never easing or faltering in her pace until you howl and stiffen underneath her. Huffing desperate breaths through your nose, biting down on the ruins of your underwear, you come apart with a flood of sensation that has your legs quaking and cramping where they hold you up.

“There you go,” she murmurs, when you finally fall limp against the car. “Good girl.”

She lets go of your arm, letting you stretch out the tightness left in the muscles there, and withdraws her fingers from your cunt with only a pitiful mewl of displeasure from you. You reach up to weakly tug the mess of fabric from your mouth.

“I’m still fucked off at you,” you manage, but it’s hoarse and breathless. “My favourite pants.”

“I’ll buy you more.” She snatches the damp fabric from your hand and uses it to wipe her gloves clean before balling it up in her fist and shoving it into her pocket. “No sense in letting them go to waste. Could be a long night.”

“Take your gloves off next time.” You wince when you straighten up, feeling sore and empty where she’s opened you with her fingers. Hastily you straighten your skirt. “You know I don’t like that.”

“Seemed like you liked it well enough.” Still, she catches the middle finger of each glove in turn between her teeth and drags her pale hands free of the leather. The gloves, too, go into her pocket. “You alright?”

“Fine.” It’s terse, and she frowns, cupping your cheek with her warm hand. When she meets your eyes there’s a carefully measured tenderness in her expression.

“Seriously, darlin’. Was that- was I a bit much?”

If you didn’t know her any better you would say the question was a challenge, but her eyes are crinkled at the corners with genuine concern and you nuzzle into her hand. “No,” you admit, twisting your fingers into the lapels of her jacket to pull her in for a kiss. “Never.”

It’s a good kiss, particularly after the sharpness of the game, her fingers sliding into your hair with affection far removed from the way she’d pulled it earlier. She wraps an arm around you to tug you into her chest, calming your shivering body with her warmth, but the other effects of the cold and the recent orgasm make themselves known with a vengeance and you laugh into her mouth when you pull away.

“I do actually quite need a piss now, though.”

Miranda snickers and lets you go. With a tilt of her head she indicates the dark corner a few feet away from the back of the car. “Go on then.”

You snort with disbelief. “Fuck off.” Raising an eyebrow, she folds her arms and leans back against the car. A smile tugs at her lips. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m not letting you wander off at night with no pants on. Anything could happen.”

"I wouldn’t have no pants on if you hadn’t ruined them!”

“Funny, that.” Her tongue pokes at the inside of her cheek as she rolls her eyes. “Now hurry up, it’s freezing.”

“You have a coat on!” Reluctantly, you glance around yourself, but the place is deserted and you have no doubt that it’s seen far worse. She watches with a smug smile as you wander into the corner. “Right. Fine. Turn around, then.”

Her boots shift on the concrete when she settles against the car, lifting her chin defiantly. “Nah.”

“Of course.” As you start to tug the hem of your dress up once more, you mutter, “god, I hate you.”

Even so, you can’t stop smiling.

#mine #nsfwork #miranda croft x reader #is that a tag yet???#it is now

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secretaryunpaid · 3 years

Text

Fighting Temptations...

(TNA Fanfic)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: approx. 1535

Warnings/Triggers: Death, depression,

After the painful sight of Alina’s death, Sam went on a downward spiral. His actions from that point forward led to excessive alcohol abuse. He wasn't even aware of the amount that he would consume daily.

He had come to rely on his meetings with Dahlia more often than she’d expected. So much so, that he was beginning to suck her into his depression. She was losing sight of herself trying to help him escape this loop that he’d become enslaved in.

She never imagined that her revenge would push him to this level. She was so consumed with a hatred for him, that she didn’t even think of the collateral damage her actions would cause. Being in Sam’s presence was forcing her reality to take hold of her sanity.

She’d been the cause of this… and indirectly the cause of Alina’s death. She’d recently sent a picture to Alina. The sight had Alina questioning how well she even knew her husband.

Sam had been so loving and, although Dalton Enterprises was monopolizing his life, he was always trying to be the man she’d fallen so deeply in love with.

But Alina was gone now, and after having been forced into rehab as her condition for taking him back, along with a serious commitment, he had to pull his life together. He wouldn’t lose her, too.

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Sam hired Tyrese to perform “Sweet Lady” for his proposal … Down on his own persuasive measures since she’d left when he was most vulnerable, he figured that added touch would give him time to work his courage up to take on her denial, should this strong minded woman actually allow his entertainment.

He knew that she’d mentioned loving Tyrese’s sensual voice… She’d at least focus on the words of his song… Knowing her wit, she’d pick up quite quickly on the words meaning on this night.

She’d warned Sam that if he wasn’t contacting her with a marriage proposal, she couldn’t entertain their former patterns. He’d driven her to lust and he knew it. But she’d been able to resist his charms in the end. Whiskey and bourbon were his “new orgy” as Dahlia had put it.

He’d express that underneath the pain, he’d actually fallen in love with her. Heartbroken at the words, knowing that she’d expected a totally different conversation to result from the photo she’d sent to Alina just before her demise. She becomes enraged and her persona immediately shifts to borderline girl interrupted behavior …

“You’re professing love for ME, Sam… While GRIEVING over your TRUE LOVE ??? DO YOU FUCKING EVEN HEAR YOUR WORDS RIGHT NOW ??”

Sam flinches back in absolute confusion… “You’re telling me that I CAN’T love you, too? After every time you came to my rescue … you were ALWAYS there, Lia!! How can you expect me not to grieve? But I have to move on, and I NEED YOU to do that, Lia!” But Dahlia isn’t prepared for this turn of events.

“Sam, I ..,” tears flowing heavily, “I can’t. There are things I have d- …” Sam interrupts here with a heated kiss that draws her from the ground resting only on her tiptoes … a kiss that draws every ounce of desire … that forces her to acknowledge … her love …

When he releases her, she whispers, “Love you, too…” Momentarily stunned, she allows him to kiss her more fervently, backing her against the wall … His hand groping her meaty core, his tongue racing against her neck, against her shoulder, until he swiftly drops to her center to kiss what has drawn him to her fully.

The inhale at his touch floods her with an adrenaline that she can’t resist. She wants him … She needs him … She craves him … “Yesss, Sam,” is the delicate whisper that escapes her lips as she bites down, letting the rush consume her…

“NO!”

She pushes Sam away, but he is not giving in… He holds her firmly, pulling her into his tongue thrusts … into his finger strokes … into his teething graze of her core … He growls his hunger loudly, letting her know he has seized his prey and won’t give without her trembling release …

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His animalistic nature returns… his former self coming along with it … She has become his tether to reality… Her reluctance only fuels him more.

He pulls her to the floor, laying his weight upon her as he grinds against her, “Tell me you DON’T want me Lia… TELL ME !!!,” he demands with firmness… “You CAN’T !!,” are the last words spoken as he tears away her clothing … tears away her control … devouring her moans with his aggressive kisses, sliding her thong to the side and thrusting his hardened length into her … loving her with a roughness as if punishing her for ever thinking of walking away from him …

Tonight, he will stake his claim on her heart … he will offer all of himself with each thrust, building into a powerful hammering that leaves them both convulsing with release …

As Sam lays atop her frame, she lays silently tears flowing uncontrollably … How can she love this man … after the things he’d caused her to endure … the personality changes, the … the … all thoughts end as he lifts to kiss her again … Oh damn, I can’t resist … round two is always better than the first … and with that, she is sucked in again … this time, she gives her all … because this time … this time has to be her last … but how?

“Dammit, Sam…,” is the last of her thoughts as his sex takes hold of her soul.

After he had fully put his mark of ownership on Dahlia’s body, after she’d clawed her last orgasm on his back … he lifted her like a weightless doll, and carried her to the bed, so spoon the night away with her in his loving hold…

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Morning comes, and Sam kisses her, “Good morning, Lia. Do you forgive me for last night??” She stares into his eyes, the biggest smile of pleasure shown on her face, “Mmmhmm, forgiven.”

“Good, cause you know I never miss breakfast.”

“But, I’m sore, Sam …”

He places a finger over her lips … “I’ve got you, Lia.”

And with that, she convinces herself that this will be the final time…

“Damn, girl … I love you! You’re so damned sexy,” he growls, before giving her the most sensual and gentle love making she’s ever experienced … She now knew that he’d truly committed himself to her.

------------------------

Freddy Jackson’s “Tasty Love” is the song he belts from the shower … Dahlia can’t help but smile … “Damn, I LOVE HIM…” But the smile quickly fades as she sees the notification on Sam’s phone over on the nightstand.

“Sam, we need to talk, NOW !!!” {sender T.B.O.P .eggplant kitty emojis…}

She gets a clench in her chest … TBOP, TBOP … until she understands the acronym to be The Boys of Princeton… And just like that, her horrors flood back to mind, reaching an anxiety level beyond control. She can’t keep hold of her sanity …

She looks towards the direction of the shower, but Sam is still in his feelings, now belting lyrics to “Just a Touch Away” by Freddie Jackson. Water drops in heavy sounds, signifying that he is still mid cleanse … “LOVE IS JUST, JUST A SIMPLE TOUCH …,” are the words he’s crooning out.

She darts for her outer clothing strewn near the door … not taking the time to fully dress … noting that Sam had literally torn her clothes off of her, she looks around frantically … As she spots his suit shirt, she hurriedly takes, grabbing her clutch and shoes…

Rushing as fast as she can, buttoning the last button, she reaches for the door handle … “I owe him a goodbye at least …”

Knowing that she can’t leave if he is face to face, she scribbles a quick note … “I love you, but I can’t do this Sam.” Sealed with a lip imprint, a final kiss of crimson, she drops the note near his phone, and slips out of his life … Her plan… never look back …

Sam emerges into the bedroom, backside winding in a nasty grind … his playful side of love … only to spin around to an empty room… “Lia?”

“Hmm, morning game play, huh? Okay, okay… Let me just check the time, see if I can make this happen for her…,” his happy thoughts searching for today’s game … until he reaches for his phone, hearing the notification … “What’s this, she’s such a tease … OH !?!”

Disappointment immediately settles in, but the notification comes again …

“Dalton, we need to get together … You owe us still,” is the last of the messages received. Scrolling further, he then reads the messages all of the way through angrily … His eyes flitting between his phone and Lia’s note …

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drarry-we-meet · 4 years

Text

Valentine’s Day Sucks

(WARNING: This 2nd half starts out tame, but most of it is NSFW, if you don’t like smut or are underage, please stop reading after they return from dinner. Thank you. 😉)

If you haven’t read part 1 you can find the link here: https://drarry-we-meet.tumblr.com/post/190853137315/valentines-day-sucks-part-1-draco

Part 2

Draco was still dizzy when they landed, but even he could tell they weren’t in either of their bedrooms. The room was bright and lavish, with a large balcony window overlooking the Parisian skyline, and an even larger bed dominating the opposite side of the room.

"Harry,” he croaked, before clearing his throat, “Did you just apparate us to France?”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Portkeys make me feel sick," he shrugged, "and I want to enjoy my evening with you."

Draco threw his hands up, “bloody gryffindors,” he muttered, "rather risk death and dismemberment than a little nausea."

Harry just grinned, “it wasn’t that far."

Draco chose to ignore that and instead looked around the room. “Where are we?”

"The Four Seasons Hotel, the restaurant is downstairs so I thought why not book a room and make a weekend of it, we rarely get to spend much time together.”

Harry smiled at him again, But Draco just stared. "Did Hermione put you up to this?” he blurted and then cringed, he hadn’t met to actually ask that.

Harry cocked his head to the side, “what do you-“

But Draco cut him off, “I won’t be pitied Potter, so if this is some kind of charity date or you trying to play hero again you can just fuck right off!”

Harry looked confused for a second, but then his expression morphed into disbelief, and finally anger. "Why yes Draco, you’ve caught me. I called in three favors and payed an exorbitant amount of money in order to get these reservations two months ago, when they were already booked out over a year in advance, just so I could pity you.”

He turned and began roughly undoing the buttons on his Auror robes. "I also had a very awkward conversation with your mother around that same time so that I could pick up one of your nice suits and place an order with Armani to make absolutely sure my suit would complement yours, because I know how important details are to you, and I have to get each one right when I’m playing hero because-“ he was cut off at that point by Draco placing a hand over his mouth.

Harry was shocked to see the emotion on Draco’s eyes, his usually stoic face for once completely unguarded.

"You planned this two months ago?” He asked hoarsely, “but why?"

Harry’s face softened at once, “because I love you, you idiot, and I know this kind of stuff is important when your dating a posh git like yourself.”

Draco let out a slightly hysterical laugh before clamping his hands over his own mouth. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or scream. He had so many questions and he didn’t know what to ask first. "Since when are we dating-? Wait, you talked to my mother? And Granger and Weasley? How long have they known? When were you going to tell ME this important tidbit of information? Wait why the hell did you shove me in the closet last time your friends came over if it wasn’t even a secret? I thought you were ashamed of me! I thought, I thought-“ he turns away rapidly at that point quickly rubbing his eyes because he’ll be damned if he lets Harry see him cry.

Then he spins around again as the last few minutes catch up with him, “Did you just say you love me?” He whispers.

Harry, by this point looks thoroughly rebuked. "I do,” he murmurs, warily approaching Draco who looks a bit wrecked. His eyes are red and watery with unshed tears, his hair a mess from the apparition, and his face flushed from his angry interrogation. Harry slowly pulls him into his arms and squeezes him tightly. They stand there for several minutes as their heart rates slow, Harry resting his head against Draco’s, breathing in the scent of his shampoo.

After a minute Draco groans, “you do realize you just outed us to the entire wizarding world in the middle of our office.”

Harry just chuckles, and Draco pushes him away with a glare, “It’s going to be all over the papers tomorrow you know. Robards is going to kill you.”

Harry just shrugs, “he won’t, and as for the papers, I don’t care.”

Draco had to mull that over for a moment, it was true that technically Harry wasn’t his boss, since Draco was only temporarily on loan to the Aurors from the department of Ministerial Efficiency And Transparency or MEAT for short, (because of course Hermione always had to come up with long and complicated names that summed up into bizarre acronyms). But he was still fairly certain that a Deputy Department Head and a regular clerk dating might be a bit frowned upon, especially if that Department Head was in charge of law enforcement and that clerk was a former criminal.

But Harry was just standing there smiling at him, and his eyes were so warm and filled with happiness that Draco decided to just give in. He grabbed the garment bag off the bed and set to changing his own attire.

Three hours later, he and Harry were sat at their highly sought after table in one of France’s most elegant restaurants, enjoying a nine course dinner of the most delicious dishes and a bottle of fine wine. They talked more that evening than they ever had before, the walls Draco had kept up around Harry finally coming down now that he knew where he stood. They returned to their room after to share another bottle of wine on the balcony, overlooking the glittering city and Eiffel Tower. Draco’s entire body was tingling with happiness and he shivered when Harry laced his fingers through his.

Harry mistaking the shiver for Draco being cold, pulled him inside their suite and ran them a bath in their large soaking tub. They cuddled and washed each other and kissed, long sensual kisses that were almost better than all the sex they’d shared in the past. When they were done, Harry wrapped Draco in a large fluffy towel, cast a wandless warming charm and scooped him up so he could carry him in his arms to their large bed.

Before Harry had even joined him on the bed, Draco was trembling in anticipation. He had never felt so loved or cherished as he did this night. Harry smiled at him, pulling one of Draco’s hands toward him and kissing each knuckle, he looked up again into his eyes and brushed a fringe of Draco’s hair back with his other hand. Then he slowly, without breaking eye contact opened Draco’s towel and pulled it away.

“So beautiful," he murmured, slowly raking his eyes up and down Draco’s body.

Draco couldn’t help but close his legs and pull them closer to his body a bit. Sex between them had always been a bit frenzied, with clothes being ripped off or simply pushed aside, and the two of them racing toward orgasm.

This was different, Harry was still wearing his robe, crouched over Draco who was fully exposed to his hungry gaze. Harry placed his hands on Draco’s knees, stopping him from pulling them any closer to his body.

“Oh no baby,” he cooed, his voice husky and raw, “spread your legs for daddy. Let me see all of you."

Draco shivered and whimpered, he couldn’t ever resist when Harry spoke to him like that. He relaxed his legs, and spread them wide, reveling in the delighted look that flashed through Harry’s eyes, the way he licked his lips and moaned.

“Put your hands above you head and grab onto the headboard,” Harry ordered, his voice was even rougher than before and Draco could see the red, leaking tip of his cock poking through the gap in his robe. His legs were trembling now. All he wanted was for Harry to bury himself inside him and fuck him into the mattress, but Harry seemed to have other plans.

He leaned down kissing Draco’s forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, and finally his lips. He kissed him deeply, cupping Draco’s face with both his strong hands, until Draco began bucking on the bed, trying to get friction against Harry’s robe for his desperately leaking cock.

“Uh uh uh sweetheart,” Harry whispered amused, “I’m just getting started with you, and you’re not going to come until I say so.”

Draco let out a high-pitched whine that he would be mortified to remember tomorrow, but immediately stilled his hips as he was told.

Harry rewarded him with another warm smile, and then dipped in again to begin sucking on his neck. He worked his way down his shoulders, each arm, and each individual finger. Then he worked back up to his chest, pausing to suck and bite each nipple as Draco’s leaked copious amounts of precum on the bed and slowly became a whimpering mess.

By the time Harry finally reached his naval and began a path down, Draco was sure he has going to pass out from the lack of blood flow to his brain, so concentrated as it was inside his aching cock. He was desperate to reach down and give it just one little squeeze, anything to provide a little relief, but he kept his hands gripped to the headboard, knuckles turning white.

But then, just as Harry reached his cock he stopped, sitting up and grabbing one of Draco’s feet. He kissed the sole of Draco’s left foot and then the top, then the inside of his ankle, working his way back up. When he finally reached the inside of Draco’s groin he pulled away again, starting all over with the right foot while Draco cursed and moaned and felt tears pricking at his eyes.

When Harry reached the inside of his right groin he sat up fully and stepped away from the bed. Draco whined again, “Harry please," he cried.

“I’m sorry what was that?" Harry asked smiling and raising one eyebrow in a perfect copy of how Draco always did it to him. He stepped away from the bed then and returned a minute later with a bottle of lube.

Finally! Draco thought, as Harry climbed back onto the bed. "Pull up your knees darling," Harry instructed, "and keep them spread nice and wide for me."

Draco did as he was told and shut his eyes with relief, holding his breath and waiting for the feeling of cold lube to trickle onto him. But instead he felt a burning hot, soft, wet protrusion to his backside and opened his eyes in alarm. He looked down to see Harry’s face buried between his legs, his green eyes dancing wickedly, his mouth open wide around Draco’s hole, and his tongue thrusting deep inside him.

Draco had never been rimmed before and the sensations paired with Harry’s sexy face were too much for him. It wasn’t more than a minute or two before he felt his orgasm hit him like an explosion, his body convulsing on the bed, and his eyes blacking out for a moment. His cum shot all the way up onto his own face and he could taste himself on his tongue.

As he came to, he felt Harry running his hands up and down Draco’s sides, letting him calm down slowly. When Draco had finally caught his breath he realized Harry had pulled his arms down away from the headboard, and was gently massaging away the soreness from his hands and wrists that had been gripping the bed too tightly for so long.

Draco frowned, “you didn’t come,” he pouted.

“Oh I did," Harry smiled, “I brought myself off all over your beautiful face same as you, I couldn’t handle how sexy that little performance was.”

Draco flushed red and looked away, but Harry just pulled his face back towards him and kissed him lazily. "Don’t worry," he chuckled, "I cleaned you up after."

They held each other for a while, just caressing and kissing, half asleep, but not quite willing to doze off just yet, as they waited to get their second wind. Harry set an even slower pace this time, opening Draco up for him slowly, almost reverently. When he finally buried himself deep inside him, Draco nearly came again, but Harry placed a tight grip around the base of his cock and squeezed. Draco cried out then, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Harry kissed them away and set a slow, teasing pace.

Draco wasn’t sure how long they’d been at it before he began to beg Harry to go faster, but Harry only sped up to a moderate pace, and everytime Draco got close, Harry would slow down just enough to bring him down again, until Draco was reduced to a trembling mess, digging his nails into Harry’s upper arms and begging him to just fuck him already.

“Ask daddy nicely baby and I’ll give it to you,” Harry breathed in his ear, slamming his hips forward forcefully once and then twice, before backing off again, “tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”

Draco moaned and thrashed, Harry’s words shooting a bolt of electricity all the way from his cock to his toes. He’d never admitted how much he liked Harry’s dirty talk, or actively participated in his daddy kink. But Harry knew, of course he knew, because Draco couldn’t hide how much he trembled and leaked when Harry said those words, how hard and fast he came.

"Come on baby," Harry whispered, brushing back Draco’s hair and kissing his forehead, "I want to take care of you love, I want to make you come so hard. Tell me what you want, tell me who you need."

Draco, embarrassed but determined, squeezed his eyes shut and whispered, barely audible, “please daddy,".

“Say it again,” Harry growled, stilling his hips, and tightening his arms around Draco.

Draco, opened his eyes and was mesmerized by the sudden change in Harry’s demeanor. His eyes had darkened so much that only a hint of green could be seen around the rim, and he was panting, his arm muscles straining under the effort of holding himself still inside Draco.

Draco smiled, reveling in his new found power to unravel Harry, and slowly bit down on his bottom lip. Harry watched the movement, and his cock twitched. Draco squeezed himself down hard around it and Harry moaned. Draco took advantage of the moment to lean his head back, baring his throat and batting his eye lashes a bit.

“Please daddy,” he whimpered, pulling his knees up higher and spreading his legs as wide as he could, just the way he knew Harry liked, “please fuck me hard daddy, fuck me so hard I-“ but before he could finish that sentence Harry was slamming into him, rocking the heavy bed forward into the wall and driving Draco’s shoulders back into the mattress.

Harry lifted Draco’s arse off the bed, nearly bending him in half as he set a punishing rhythm that hit Draco’s prostate on every stroke. Draco could barely breathe in this position and it thrilled him. Harry had both hands on his shoulders pinning him down onto the bed with all his weight and was pounding him into oblivion. Draco could feel his orgasm coming on fast and as he tipped over the edge he heard Harry cry out and spasm, fluid gushing out deep inside him and spilling out down his backside. Draco was once again coated in his own fluids, his arse clamped down so hard with the force of his climax that Harry couldn’t even pull out.

It took them even longer the second time to come back down, and for Draco to relax enough for Harry to pull free. He cleaned them up with a wandless spell, and for once Draco was too tired to call him a show-off for doing so.

It was a little while later, when they were all curled up, Draco on his left side with his back pressed into Harry’s chest, that he reached down to twine his fingers through the hand wrapped securely around his middle. He listened to the slow even breathing of the man behind him, and when he was absolutely sure he was asleep he whispered, "I love you too Harry."

He didn’t see the brilliant smile that lit up the room behind him, but he felt the squeeze on his hand and the contented sigh against his back. He was terrified for a moment, but then Harry pulled him even closer and kissed his neck again. He smiled a little himself after that.

Gift fic for: @mothermalfoy

#drarry #harry x draco #harry potter #draco and harry #pottermore #drabble #drarry fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #Valentine’s Day

502 notes · View notes

kiwi-bitchez · 4 years

Note

can i just say that your writing style is absolutely phenomenal and that i adore the work you’ve put out so far. i know whatever you write in the future is going to be incredible and i can’t wait to read it!! in terms of suggestions, i was wondering if you could write something with virgin peter being with a more experienced reader? maybe she finds his lack of experience cute and calms down his nerves by being straight forward? maybe a little praise kink discovery as well?? totally up to you!!

Holy shit yes! Honestly, I got a little carried away with this... sorry I took so long lol, hope this holds up to any expectations ;)

Straight Forward, Straight Backwards (a college!Peter Parker AU)

Warnings: SMUT, college!AU, sexy times, praise kink, Peter Parker is a cutie, also everyone is legal ages here obvi

Word count: 6.5k

Summary: You move into a new dorm building and a cute boy down the hall catches your eye. Little did you know he's a smarty pants who takes directions very well ;)

You should have done a better job packing. Your personal items lay strewn about in your new dorm room, clothes and other items all jumbled together in unorganized boxes. You typically didn’t leave things until the last minute, but moving across campus didn’t seem like a big deal until it was actually time to do it.

You flop back on your unmade bed and scroll through your phone, finding any excuse not to deal with the chaos of unpacking. Hopping up to your feet, you decide to wander down the hall to see if anyone’s doors were open. You hadn’t had much luck making friends in the last building you lived in and wanted to take the opportunity to try and meet some new people.

You walk down the hall searching for someone to introduce yourself to, poking your head into a handful of rooms and saying hello. You tell them your name and that you just moved in, having a quick few interactions with the people in the rooms next to yours. You venture a little further down the hall to a door propped open with a doorstop, faint music coming from inside.

You knock lightly and then poke your head in, not wanting to intrude on anyone. You see a curly-haired boy sitting at a desk concentrating on something. For a second you wondered if you should just let him be, but something told you to knock again and see if he noticed.

You knock a little louder this time, saying a quiet “Hello?” as you do so. He turns around abruptly, startled by your presence. He lurches back in his chair a little bit, rolling across the room and away from his desk.

“Hey,” you say again, “sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Nonono, it’s ok,” he says quickly and nervously.

“I just moved in down the hall,” you gesture towards your room, “I just wanted to introduce myself, I’m y/n.”

“Oh, hi,” he still seemed nervous, “I’m Peter.”

He got up out of his desk chair quickly and walked a few steps over to you. He jutted his hand out, offering it to you. You couldn’t help but smile a little as you shook it tentatively. Most of the people you had met didn’t even bother to leave their beds, let alone get up to shake your hand.

“It’s nice to meet you Peter,” you say as you continue to shake his hand.

“Shit, sorry,” he pulls his hand away, realizing he had been shaking yours for much longer than necessary, “do you wanna come in? I have snacks.”

You chuckle a little before entering his small single dorm and comfortably plopping yourself onto a beanbag chair.

“Purple Doritos,” you gesture to the hoard of junk food he has piled on a shelf in the corner, “respect.”

“Totally underrated right?” he says with enthusiasm.

The two of you exchange the typical chit chat of college students, asking each other what your major is and how long you’ve been in school.

“Biomechanical engineering and robotics, but also maybe chemistry if I have the time to do that too,” he runs his hand through his floppy curls.

“Damn,” you look at him wide-eyed, “guess I’m coming to you for science help from now on, freakin genius over here.”

He laughs nervously and turns away, “I just think its all so interesting, and I love to build things.”

You can’t help but smile at the way he talks with his hands, spinning around aimlessly in his desk chair. He tells you about your school’s robotics lab, something you would never have had a reason to know about otherwise. He starts to tell you about the kinds of things he’s built, and the projects he was currently working on. Most of what he said went right over your head, but you liked how excited he was to tell you about it.

After shooting the shit for a while, you get up, “I guess I’ll head back to my room, didn’t mean to distract you from your work or anything,” you gesture to his desk, “it was really nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, if you um ever need a study buddy or anything like that you can usually find me right here,” he was a little jittery, and his voice was nervous. You give him a smile and tell him you will take him up on that offer.

You feel a blush creep up into your cheeks as you hurry down the hall back to your messy dorm. He was cute. And nice. And funny and smart. He was nothing like the guys you usually went for. He seemed awkward and shy, and you knew you’d have to be the one to make the first move. You were used to just letting others do the work when flirting, so this would be different.

A few days later you found yourself bored and alone in your dorm. You had spent the morning finishing up some school assignments, so you hadn’t had the chance to get any food. Only now were you realizing how hungry you were. Jumping up from your desk and throwing some clean clothes on you decide to venture out onto campus.

Peter’s dorm door is propped open once again, and something inside you tells you to pop your head in. You had seen him in passing since meeting him, and he would always give you a friendly wave and a smile.

“Hey,” you say as you knock quietly, “hope I’m not bothering you.”

He’s sat in his bed, big headphones on and furiously scribbling in a notebook. He only notices you once you enter the room, startling him.

“Oh, hey y/n, what’s uhh, what’s up,” he stumbles on his words as he takes off the headphones and hops off the bed.

“Just wanted to say hey and see if you wanted to come to the dining hall with me,” you help him gather his papers that had fallen on the floor.

“Oh, yeah, um, sure,” he looks up at you, big brown eyes meeting yours, “that would be nice, I haven’t eaten yet today.”

“Me either,” you hand him the stack you had gathered. The two of you decide on which dining hall is best and make your way across campus. He’s a fast walker, which you like, and an even faster talker. You can tell that you make him a little nervous, but you kind of like that too. It made it easier to hide how nervous he made you.

The two of you grab some food and find a table off in a corner to sit at. Despite his awkward nature, you found Peter to be incredibly sweet and a nice person to be around. He always seemed interested in what you were saying and would never cut you off or talk over you.

You start asking him more about what he does in the labs at school, liking the way his eyes light up and hands get restless when he talks about the projects he’s working on. He knows you aren’t a science buff like him, but he appreciates that you are interested in hearing about his projects.

You realize that you had finished your food long ago and you had been sitting at the table for quite a while, just going back and forth with Peter, telling stories and jokes and facts about your lives. He was an easy person to talk to, which was rare to come by.

“Maybe sometime you could sneak me in and show me what you’ve been working on,” you rest your head onto your palm.

“Oh, no sneaking necessary, I could bring you anytime,” he says casually, “you wanna go?” He gestures towards the door.

“Now?” you were a little surprised at the suggestion, but nodded in agreement and moved to clear your plate.

The two of you start walking across campus once again, you following his lead. You were excited to be spending so much time with him, growing to like him more and more as you got to know him better.

Your first years of college had been spent doing the typical partying and experimenting, as custom. You had your fair share of one night stands, good and bad. Sort and long term relationships, both good and bad.

As much as you were attracted to Peter, you truly just enjoyed spending time with him. He is hard to read, and you couldn’t quite tell if you had a shot with him. If not you were content with just being his friend, although you did think about jumping his bones most of the time.

He swipes his student ID in the door of a large grey building, letting the two of you in. You follow him down a series of halls and stairwells, he tells you about all the different labs as you go. You finally reach a large set of double doors that lead to the robotics lab.

It was a vast space with mounds and piles of mechanical equipment. Goofy drawings and photos were hung up on the walls by people’s workstations. You couldn’t even begin to conceive what all these machines are and what they do.

You wander around the space while Peter walks over to a desk and piles of boxes, telling you about the project he had been working on. You jumped up onto a large table, figuring it was alright to sit there when Peter didn’t comment on your position. He was talking in circles about the machine, using acronyms and names of things you had no idea about.

Walking over to where you were sat, he shows you a small mechanical spider, roughly the size of his hand.

“I’m trying to program him to follow instructions that I can give from a mobile device,” he starts to tell you. You think it's cute that he called the robot a “he.”

“Do you wanna see?” he asks, you were too busy staring at his face to realize he had asked you a question.

“Oh yeah, of course,” you snap out of your trance and turn your attention to the little spider on the table next to you.

As Peter controlled the robot with his phone, giving it basic instructions like to move or stop, you tried to keep your attention on the spider rather than the cute boy next to you. You felt the overwhelming desire to make a move, going back and forth in your head as to whether that is a good idea or not.

He takes a few steps towards you, really reaching for his robot, but in the process positioning himself comfortably standing between your legs. He reaches past you to grab his project. You lean forward a little so your shoulders touch.

“Oh shit, sorry y/n,” he backs up quickly, realizing he had been standing so close to you, “I didn’t mean to get all up in your space just then.”

“It’s ok,” you brush your hair behind your ear and try to give him a flirty look, “come here.”

Peter gulps, and sets the spider down behind him on a different table, tentatively stepping towards you. “Can I show you something?” you lean your shoulders into him again, moving to the edge of the table to move your body closer to his.

Peter nods, clearly nervous at your forwardness. You take his hand, looking into his eyes to see how he responds to the action. He was now stood between your legs again, head only a few inches above yours. You tilt your chin up, and bring your hand to the side of his face.

“Is this okay?” you ask in a whisper, lips parted and hovering over his.

He nods, giving you permission to follow through with your plan of action. You gently place your lips on his, finding them to be soft and inviting. He kissed you back, shakily bringing his hand to the back of your neck.

You could tell he was incredibly nervous. You were used to guys kissing you hard and fast, with little buildup, all tongue and grabbing. Which was alright after a few tequila shots at a frat party, but not your favorite. This kiss was nice. Slow and gentile and in the moment. You liked initiating it, and you liked that he was kissing you back, but not trying to eat you alive.

He pulls away, eyes wide and making contact with yours, “was that… was I…?” he starts a few statements but can’t seem to find his words.

“I like you Peter,” you take his hand again, “I think you’re really cool.”

“Thanks, I…um,” he was blushing furiously and was looking down at the floor, “I like you a lot too.”

“Would you maybe want to come with me to a party on west campus this weekend?” you ask, “You know, like, as my date?”

He breaks out into a big goofy smile, nodding and giving you hand a squeeze. The two of you go on to talk more about his spider, you tell him how awesome it is and how you can’t believe how smart he must be to make something like that. He never lets go of your hand, squeezing it tightly the whole walk back to your dorm building.

Saturday rolls around and you stand in your dorm, not knowing what to wear to this party. You settle on an outfit that is the perfect blend of cute and sexy, and head down the hall to meet Peter. You give his door a quick few knocks before he opens, eyes wide looking at you.

“You look really, really good y/n,” he compliments you and you bashfully tuck your head into the crook of your shoulder, “I mean it.”

The two of you relax in his dorm room until you get the text from a friend that its time to head to the party. You can tell that Peter is a little anxious, he doesn’t seem like the partying type, but you wanted an excuse to spend some time with him. You grab his hand reassuringly and walk together out of your building, meeting up with a group of friends.

They tried to play it cool, but your girls kept indiscreetly mouthing things like “holy shit he’s so hot!” and “where did you find him?” as you walked towards the party. You rolled your eyes and brushed them off, clinging to Peter’s arm.

The party was nothing special, just a typical college party. People were drinking, dancing, grinding, smoking, mostly drinking. You whip up some quick cocktails for you and Peter and join him with some of your friends in a more secluded area of the frat house. You made sure to stand close to Peter, tucking yourself closely into his arm. You wanted everyone to know you weren’t there alone, and you wanted Peter to feel like you were his for the night.

You weren’t quite done with your first drink when you noticed an off energy from Peter. You wanted to bring him to this party as your date, but never really considered if parties were his thing or not. He was talking and joking with you and your friends, occasionally taking a sip from his pink cocktail, but you could sense an underlying sense of discomfort.

“Hey,” you pulled him into a secluded corridor, “what’s up?” You kiss him quickly, wanting to show him that you were having a good time with him. He kisses you back and your heart flutters. You love the feeling of his tentative lips on yours, light and soft.

“Just at a party with the most beautiful girl here, that’s all,” he says jokingly, but kisses your cheek after to show that he means it.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, “I feel like you aren’t having a lot of fun.”

“Are you kidding? I love spending time with you,” he says earnestly, realizing what you meant, ‘“but parties aren’t exactly my scene if you haven’t noticed.”

“I’m noticing,” you joke, “and I think the two of us alone in one of our rooms would be much better.”

You lean up to kiss the side of his neck, leaning your head into his shoulder. Your wide eyes meet his, observing that he definitely agrees with you but is still very nervous. He nods at your suggestion, and the two of you abandon your cocktails on a coffee table and leave the house.

“I didn’t mean to imply anything, “you say sweetly, “I really just like spending time with you, no matter where it is.”

“That means a lot,” you see a smile creeping onto his face.

“Your room?” you suggest, “mines kind of a mess right now.”

“Sure,” he responds, “not that I mind mess though.”

The two of you make your way up the stairs and down the hall to Peter’s room. You instinctively kick off your shoes and set down your bag.

“Sorry if I ruined the night,” he apologizes nervously, “I just don’t really fit in with big crowds like that.”

You can tell that he feels genuinely sorry. “Peter,” you start, “are you kidding? I meant it when I said I like spending time with you no matter where. We could go to a party or the dining hall or the robotics lab, I don’t care, I just like being around you.”

“You mean that?” he looks at you apologetically again.

“Of course I do, I’ve really liked you ever since we first met,” you admit. You walk over to him, snaking a hand around his neck and bringing his face closer to yours, “I really mean it.”

You lean in and kiss him, with more passion and want than the kisses you had shared before. You latch your lips around his lower one, sucking a little. He is warm and slightly apprehensive. You kiss him deeper, trying to prove that you wanted to be with him. You let your tongue roll over his bottom lip, opening up the kiss.

A slight moan from the back of his throat catches your ear, and you keep kissing him deeper, knowing that he likes it. His hands have made their way to your hips, although you are the one guiding the kiss.

Before he realizes it, his back is up against his bed and the two of you are falling backwards onto it.

You land slightly on top of him but refuse to break the kiss. You love the feeling of his soft tongue against yours, lips parted and meeting halfway. Your hands tangle themselves into his brown curls, another soft moan leaving his mouth when you tug a little at his roots. You continue to suck on his bottom lip as your fingertips begin to graze the stripe of exposed skin between his pants and his pushed-up t-shirt. You can feel the muscles in his stomach tense up underneath your touch.

His heavy breathing comes to a harsh stop with a sharp intake as you run your hands flatly across his toned stomach.

“Are you okay?” you ask, concerned, as he seemed to seize up the moment you started touching him.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to- I just- Ugh I’m sorry if I’m bad at this. I just don’t really know what I’m doing.”

You bring a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw, wrapping your hand in his reassuringly. “It’s okay, you don’t have to try and impress me or anything. I’m really enjoying myself so far, you’re a really good kisser, I promise.” You bring your lips back to his, cupping his face in the process.

He scooches back onto the bed, sitting up. “I don’t think you understand,” he starts, you can tell he’s on edge, “I’ve never really done this before. I’m… a virgin. I guess I just feel stupid, cuz I want this to be good for you, but I’m sort of clueless.”

“Okay,” you look him dead in the eyes, holding tightly onto his hand.

“Okay?” he asks, still feeling all over the place from telling you.

“Yeah, okay,” you try to play this as cool as possible, you want him to feel nothing but comfortable with you, “Peter, it’s fine, it's okay if you’ve never slept with someone.”

His eyes are wide and he’s still trying to read your reaction, “I promise I don’t care, and we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I just like spending time with you, no expectations.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” you had moved up on the bed to sit next to him at this point, legs still tangled together, “I’m just an idiot, and I feel bad, like you probably don’t want to sleep with someone who’s bad and inexperienced, and I really just want to make you feel good but I don’t know how…” he was frantically rambling at this point, face still flushed red.

“Peter,” you say slowly, trying to get him to focus, “I’m gonna be straight with you right now: you’re the first guy I’ve met in a long time who isn’t an egotistical asshole. You’re really sweet, and that’s honestly so hard to come by, I feel lucky to have met you. I can tell you’re super nervous, and you shouldn’t be. I like you a lot, so if you want to spend the night with me that’s cool, and if you don’t then that’s cool too.”

“Really?” you answer his question with a soft kiss, resuming the contact that you had before, “You’ll tell me if I'm horrible though?” His anxieties were slipping through again.

“I could… ya know, show you,” you suggest, his face lights up, “and if you’re bad it will only be a reflection of my poor teaching skills. And if I’m going to be completely honest with you here, most guys who are super experienced are still trash at sex, so the fact that you’ve even expressed concern about making me feel good gives you a massive leg up on most, so don’t sweat it.”

“You’re so fucking cool,” he brings a hand back up to your cheek, “sorry if I’m acting like a neurotic mess, I just honestly didn’t ever imagine being in this position with someone as beautiful as you.”

You feel yourself blushing at his compliment, pressing your face into his large palm. He tentatively guides your face to his, meeting your lips with his. You were glad to have had this conversation with him, because he kissed you with much more confidence. He was now sure of himself.

You decide to take the lead and swing your opposite leg over his lap, straddling him. You let your hands run up and down his arms, exploring his strong biceps, his toned sides and flexed stomach. You feel his tongue peek into your mouth, and you invite him in with an open-mouthed kiss, rolling your wet tongue against his.

You let your hands settle back in his hair, remembering how he liked it before when you gave it a tug. You found your hips rolling slightly into his with each kiss, effectively pressing your center down onto his. You couldn’t help but notice how hard he was, straining against his pants.

“Peter,” you say breathily into his mouth, “can I touch you?”

“Fuck,” his hips buck up slightly into you at your question, “please y/n.”

You let your hand trail down his stomach, fiddling with the hem of his shirt for a second. You tug at it, signaling for him to take it off. Before you could even take in the sight of his beautifully sculpted body, you trailed your hands underneath the waist of his pants, palming him above his boxers.

You knew you should move slowly, take your time with him and let it build up, but your senses were going wild. You wanted nothing more than to feel his cock in your mouth, inside of you. It felt so perfect in your hand, and although you couldn’t see it, you knew it was nice.

“Peter,” you whisper again between breathy kisses, “your cock feels so good in my hand, so hard for me already.”

You feel him shudder underneath you as you move from his mouth down to the underside of his jaw, sucking on a spot while you continue to jerk him off.

You slowly take care of the button on his pants, sliding them down his legs. The moment of separation makes you realize his hands had been placed firmly on your hips. After his pants were kicked off his legs, you grind down onto him again, less fabric separating you this time.

“Do you want to touch me?” you ask seductively into his ear as you continue to roll yourself down onto his clothed, but incredibly hard member. He gives you an eager nod, eyes blown and glassy from all the stimulation he was receiving at once.

You guide his hand from its place on your hip down between your legs. Up your skirt and over the sopping center of your cotton panties, his hands find their way to your center. You slow your movements over him, allowing him to feel around and get a sense of your body. He groans at the immediate contact, noticing the unavoidable wet patch around your entrance.

“Do you feel that?” you ask before kissing down his neck again, “feel how wet I am?”

He continues to meet your movements by pressing his hips up into you. You notice how responsive he is when you talk dirty to him, especially little compliments and words of praise. You could have your fun with this, make him fall apart just by telling him how well he’s doing.

“You did that to me Peter, you make me so fucking wet.”

He lets out a groan into your neck at your words. You take the opportunity to slip your hands under the waistband of his boxers, looking into his eyes for a second for silent permission to continue. You nip at his earlobe and whisper words of praise to him as you fully grasp his cock for the first time. Jerking him off slowly, you grind yourself down onto his hand, letting his fingers press harder into your underwear.

You move your other hand down to meet his, showing him how to rub circles on your clit. Moaning into his skin, you pull aside your underwear, completely wrecked at this point. You grant him access to your slick folds, ready and waiting for him.

“Fuck, Peter,” you fuck yourself down onto his long fingers, letting him comfortably slip inside you, “you’re doing so good, making me feel so good.”

You arch your back a little, giving him a good view of your face as he twisted his fingers inside you. You sit straight up, perpendicular to him now. Your full weight pressed down onto his hand, his middle two fingers fluttering perfectly inside of you with little instruction. You expose your chest by removing your shirt before leaning your arms down onto his shoulders. You grind your clit against his palm as his fingers work inside of you.

“Oh my god, Peter,” you bite your lip, “fuck, you’re going to make me come.”

He gives you a look before stuttering, “I- um, can I…”

“What is it,” you try to ask him genuinely but cant help the moans that slip out, “what do you want?”

“I, uh, I wanna taste you.”

“Fuck.” Your head falls back at his request, hair falling slightly over your face, mouth gaping open.

“Is that okay? Is that a weird thing to ask?” his voice was tentative, which made you chuckle a little considering his fingers were still fucking deeply into you.

“Peter, that’s so fucking hot.” You rush down to capture his lips in yours, letting your tongues meet. You bite down slightly onto his lower lip, knowing you wouldn’t be able to last much longer. You move down flat on your back, slipping off your only remaining garment, your skirt.

He takes the cue and removes his boxers as well, now leaving you both completely naked. You try to steal a look at his hard cock, but he quickly moves down in between your legs. He looks at your dripping pussy with wide brown eyes, a mix between glowing and uncertainty.

You start to give him instructions, trying to fulfill your role as teacher, “You can just- mmmmhhh fuck,” he meets his warm tongue with your entrance, licking a wide stripe up the middle.

“Fuck, just like that,” he continues to lick and suck, “and you can add a- fuck, Peter.” He always seems to know what you’re going to tell him seconds before you say it. He dips his two, already wet, fingers back into you as he sucks on your clit.

You arch your back, grinding yourself into his tongue slightly. Through pants, you tell him how close you are, how well he’s doing. With a final flick of his tongue, you clench around his fingers tightly and scrunch your face up in pleasure. Your hips gyrate against him, thighs shaking, hands grasping at the sheets, at his hair, at anything.

You let out his name with a strangled moan, knowing he would love hearing his name come from your lips as you reached your high. “Peter, fuck, Peter,” over and over.

You pull away slightly, telling him he can stop. You flop back, panting, hand coming up to your forehead.

“Um, was that? Was I okay?”

You couldn’t believe that after you had been writhing and coming underneath him, he would still question himself like that. “Yes,” you were still a little out of breath, “that was really fucking good.”

You move down the bed to meet him, pulling him into a deep kiss. You relished in the feeling of his warm mouth, the taste of yourself on his lips. You wrap your legs around his torso, kissing him more fiercely.

You look up at him, hair a mess and face red, “I want to make you feel good now.”

“I mean, we don’t have to, like, you don’t have to…”

“Peter,” you wrap your legs around him a little tighter, “do you want to fuck me?”

He groans slightly and thrown his head back, hands coming down to grab your ass.

“Please,” he half moans as you attack his neck with your tongue, “I really want to.”

“You have condoms?”

“Mhm, just give me sec,” he doesn’t want to stop toughing you, but untangles your bodies to move over to the side table drawer. He stands next to the bed, fiddling with the unopened condom box.

You have a devious idea, and decide to position yourself at the edge of the bed, legs propped up behind you, ass in the air, hands and mouth perched and ready for him. He turns slightly, condom package in hand.

“Before you put that on,” you bat your eyelashes up at him, “I want to taste you.” You quote his words from earlier as you take the base of his cock in your hand, pumping it slowly.

“Can I?” he gives you permission before you slip the tip between your puffy lips. He is fully stood above you as you take him into your mouth, gagging a little on his length. You bob your head back and forth, giving him the perfect view of your ass.

You run your tongue firmly against the underside of his shaft, giving a harsh suck to the spot where the body met the head.

“Y/n,” your name was shaky in his mouth, “I need to fuck you right now.”

You like the directness in his tone and reach up mid-blow to take the condom from him. You flip around, so you are now simply seated on the edge of the bed, Peter still standing. You rip the foil with your teeth and take the rubber out.

Pumping his shaft a few times before rolling the condom on, you bite your lip and look up at him, “I’m so fucking excited to have you inside me, gonna make me feel so good.”

You were impatient, so you simply laid back on the bed where you were sat, letting your legs dangling off the side. You could tell he was too impatient to move either, as he ran his cock up and down the length of your entrance, waiting for your signal to push into you.

You motion for him to grab your legs by the thighs, allowing him to fuck into you deeply.

“Holy shit,” he grunts out as his length fills you for the first time. You arch your back and grind yourself against him, letting out little desperate moans mixed with his name.

“Fuck, Peter you can move now, you can fuck me.”

Although this was an unusual position for someone’s first time, both you and Peter were loving it. He got to see all of you as he pushed into you, your face, your tits bouncing with each thrust, the way your pussy opened up and took his cock so well. His grip on the back of your knees tightened as he fucked you harder, slightly shaking the bed.

“Oh my god, Peter,” you make eye contact as his hair flops against his forehead with each thrust, “touch me, please, fuck, I need you.”

His stamina was incredible, relentlessly fucking you as his hand seamlessly found your clit, rubbing the tight circles you had shown him how to do earlier. He loved having you splayed out before him, making you feel good, hearing you tell him how well he was fucking you, how you needed more, more, more.

He notices the familiar look on your face as he feels your walls tighten around his length. He moans out, loving the feeling of you squeezing around him. His thrusts become deeper and slower as he brings you to your second orgasm. He observed the way you squirmed when he would touch you one way, back fully arched when he would touch you another way.

“Fuck, I-” you try to communicate, “Peter, I want to come all over your cock, please don’t stop fucking me, oh my god.”

He can’t help but close his eyes as he feels you tighten around him for the last time, letting your wet orgasm drip all over his dick. You shook underneath him, legs vibrating under his grasp. Your mouth fell into a perfect Oh, and the sounds that were coming from your lips almost sent him over the edge.

He wanted to keep fucking you though, he never wanted to stop. He wanted to make you feel good over and over for the rest of forever. You were coming down from your orgasm, still letting moans and words of praise fall from your lips to him. You loved how you could feel his dick twitch a little when you told him how good he was doing.

Fully fucked out from your last orgasm, you wanted to move onto the bed for him. You move back, causing him to slip out of you. For a moment, he thought you were done, which would have been fine, he only wanted what you wanted. He would just have to go take care of himself somewhere else…

It wasn’t until you moved up onto the bed and propped yourself up on all fours, arching your back perfectly for him, leaning down onto your forearms.

“Peter,” you coo to him, “will you fuck me like this?”

He couldn’t find the words to answer, only to hop onto the bed over eagerly and position himself behind you.

“Just grab my hips and- fuck,” he filled you up perfectly, rucking your hips back onto him with his hands.

The feeling of his strong hands grasping your hips, and his dick perfectly hitting that spot inside you was almost enough to push you over the edge for the third time. You had no control over the noises that were leaving your mouth, and you suspected the same was true for him.

His hips were snapping directly into yours, and you could feel his cock swell a little inside of you. He didn’t have to tell you for you to know he was close, but regardless,

“Y/n,” you name barely made its way past the grunts and profanities, “I’m gonna, fuck, I’m-”

You felt him fuck deeper into you, hitting a new spot for a few thrusts that made you see stars. You couldn’t do anything but fuck yourself back onto him and scream his name. His orgasm washed over him, his sweaty chest quickly falling to meet your back. His hands grasped around you, something in between a hug and gripping for dear life.

He pulled out of you, and rolled over onto the pillow next to you.

“How was that?” you asked, less nervously than how he had asked you earlier, but curiously, “for your first time?”

“I-” he couldn’t even begin to come up with the words to tell you how fucking amazing it had been, he pulls you down for a long kiss, sweaty foreheads meeting. “We can do that again, right?”

You let out a laugh, “right now?” with raised eyebrows.

“Nonono, just like, in general?” he already knew your answer with the way you smiled at him.

“Peter, nobody has ever made me come like that, of fucking course we can do it again.”

You offer to take care of the condom, and head over to the bathroom to pee and clean up. Peter laid back with eyes closed, feeling unreal about what had just happened. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander to all the things he wanted to do with you. He wanted to use his spider strength to lift you up, fuck you against a wall, in the shower, on the floor, everywhere and in every position.

You returned with a hand towel for him, “Was I an okay teacher?”

“You tell me,” he joked.

You flop down on the bed next to him, letting your sticky body tangle with his in a new way.

“You’re fucking amazing,” he tells you, “but I think there are some new things I want to show you next time.”

You look at him with raised eyebrows, and let out a giggle as you bury your head into the crook of his neck. He kisses the top of your hair softly. You couldn’t help but feel a little flustered at the notion of fucking him again, of getting fucked by him again. But also, the notion of spending more time with him just in his bed, wearing one of his nerdy t-shirts and getting your hair stroked as you doze off to sleep.

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drawlfoy · 4 years

Text

The Wonders of Ohio P.4

masterlist - find parts 1, 2, and 3 here

request guidelines

did you miss me :P

pairing: draco x reader

requested: by prepubescent me

summary: american high school student y/n y/l/n’s senior year gets turned upside down when her family hosts a british exchange student that’s clearly keeping some secrets.

warnings: language and drug use mentions

a/n: hi everyone...i know that this has been a long time coming but. here she is. i finally finished this after the draft sat for over 6 months...here she is though! i’m excited weeee

tags tags tags

word count: 2k

music recs: hate candidate by BLOODHYPE, archie, marry me by alvvays

“No, no,” Y/N interrupted, gently pushing Draco’s hands away from his locker. “It’s right to the number, left past the next number once, and right straight to the last number. You twist it right to reset it...no, like this...”

“This is pathetic, I don’t even need to put anything in a box in the wall,” Draco snarled, his gray eyes flaming.

“It’s really not that deep,” she said, snorting at his attitude. “Do they not have locks in England?”

Instead of answering, he huffed dramatically and scowled. “Open it up for me, will you? It’s not worth my time to learn.”

“You’re going to be here for a whole year, you know.” Y/N’s remark contradicted with her actions as she reapproached the locker and twisted out the combination. “But how can I say no to you, ever the gentlemen?”

She held out a hand out expectantly as he stared at her, his eyes full of confusion.

“Your phone,” she said.

“My...my what?”

“I know, it’s weird, but they prohibit phones in orientation. Something about bonding or whatever. Just give it here, and we’ll keep it in here. If it goes off in any of the activities they’ll take it from you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, okay, I respect that attitude.” Y/N smirked, patting him on the shoulder as he flinched away from her. “Just don’t be mad at me when they confiscate it until 2.”

He stared at her for a few seconds longer before clearing his throat and nodding.

<^>

The speeches at the beginning were always the longest part--the unnecessary dramatization of the importance of high school, the faux motivation mantras, the “love yourself” bits ironically being performed by some of the most insufferable members of the ASB--and Y/N was ready to get it over with, Draco seemed to feel the same way, as every time she looked at him, he looked another shade of uninterested.

She tried poking fun at the performances a couple times to see his reaction, and surprisingly enough, it was slightly well received.

“You see the redhead down there?” she whispered to him, gesturing towards the current speaker with her chin. He gave her a tight nod in response. “That’s Heather, our ASB president. She’s a total tool. Spews all this ‘vaping in the bathrooms isn’t cool!’ shit but one time I walked in on her doing lines in the performance wing bathrooms. She’s crazy, I’m telling you.”

Draco seemed amused at this, resting his cheek in his palm and watching her intently. “Lines?”

“Cocaine.”

“Cocaine?”

“You know what? I’m gonna quit while we’re ahead. I don’t want to be the one to corrupt you.”

Draco scoffed. “You’re worried about corrupting me?”

“Well, yeah,” she said. “I’m not the one who doesn’t know what cocaine is.”

He sniffed at this, turning his attention back to Heather’s mind-numbing anti-bullying presentation that was clearly put together moments before. Silence ensued for the next few moments before Draco sucked in a breath and turned to look at her. “What’s an ASB?”

“Oh, you should be so glad that you have to ask that,” Y/N stage whispered. “It’s student government. It’s an acronym for something. I never cared enough to remember it. The elections are super corrupt--it’s basically a popularity contest. They don’t do anything either...I don’t even know why it exists anyways.”

“So I take it you’re not popular?”

“By choice, I’ll have you know,” Y/N pointed out. “I just made friends with the people I had stuff in common with. We all just happened to not be big fans of putting vodka in our Hydroflasks and the like...What I mean by that is that we aren’t big partiers.” She was quick to clarify when she saw the confusion on Draco’s face.

He didn’t seem to understand any more of what she had said, or at least didn’t show any interest in it, scooting away a few inches from her and turning his head back to Heather’s speech.

The presentation ended within another 10 minutes, much to Y/N’s delight. One had been enough for her--two orientations was pushing it.

Maybe that’s why all the ASB kids are so awful she thought to herself as they made they way to Draco’s first class on the schedule. If I had to be here every year, I’d probably be a grade A rat as well.

“How’d they put you in AP Physics C?” Y/N asked him as they walked into the science lab. “I’m in your same period...and I had to take two years of physics before that to be qualified to take it. Did you take a Physics A level or something? Is that what they call it?”

Draco blinked twice. “Er...sure. My professors told me that I was skilled in Arithmancy, if that’s what you mean..?”

“Arithmancy? Is that just a fancy word for math?” she pressed. “I thought you guys just called it maths.”

“You could say so.”

Before she could push for any more answers, someone behind them cleared their throat. Y/N spun around, her face lighting up when she saw who it was.

“Mr. Whitacre!” she exclaimed.

“Y/N, my least favorite student,” he greeted, a cheeky smile concealed by a rather bushy black beard. “I’m surprised they haven’t kicked you out of orientation. Haven’t you head? This is supposed to be an event for new students...not jaded old souls such as yourself.”

“Oh, you know me.” She rested one of her hands on a lab table, raising an eyebrow. “I just couldn’t stay away from the thrilling suggestion of physics.”

“Sure. And you are...”

Draco just stared at him for a few seconds with a disgusted expression until Y/N elbowed him in the side, hard. “You’ll have to excuse Draco. He’s still going through jet lag. Aren’t you, Draco?”

Y/N sent him a death glare until he wiped the expression off his face and uttered an awkward, “Er, yeah.”

The rest of orientation was just as uncomfortable and unnatural as Draco’s introduction to Mr. Whitacre. Y/N was surprised to see that they had a very similar schedule as Draco seemed entirely clueless to what the subjects even were. She mentioned her concerns to him briefly, but he seemed entirely unbothered.

“It can’t be any harder than school back home,” he told her in his prim and proper voice, prompting a small smile to grow across Y/N’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure,” she said, her voice hardly containing her sarcasm.

The rest of the morning was spent toiling around each of the empty classrooms and memorizing room numbers so Draco wouldn’t be lost come Thursday morning. Y/N wasn’t having an entirely terrible time, as, much to her surprise, Draco wasn’t a complete dickwad. There were moments where he actually had something interesting or worthy to say, and when he didn’t look like he just stepped in something disgusting, she enjoyed the walks between classes. By the end of 5th period, she had concluded that Draco could make absolutely anything sound beautiful in his accent.For once, they were both being entirely civil to each other, and Y/N found herself wishing that the school day went on a bit longer. At least...until the walk to French.

“Excuse me,” a voice carried over Y/N’s as she was in the middle of telling Draco some particularly hot gossip from last year. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

Heather stood to their left, leaning coolly on the wall of lockers, her right shoulder just subtly dropped in their direction.

“Hey Heather,” Y/N greeted. “This is Draco. He’s our exchange student this year.”

“Hello.” Draco’s voice was stiffer than usual.

She smiled, her lips stretching out over perfectly straight white teeth. “Hi Draco! Listen, I know it can be hard here at first, especially if you haven’t grown up around here, but I swear we’re all super friendly.” She held out her hand, smiling even wider. Y/N hardly managed to hold back a laugh as Draco took it and limply shook it like one would fondle a dead fish.

Heather’s face remained just as cheery. “I just want to say that, as ASB president, it’s my job to make sure you feel like you fit in. Let me give you my snapchat, so if you ever need anything, I’m just one snap away.”

“Oookay, thank you Heather,” Y/N interrupted, wrapping her fingers around Draco’s sleeve and pulling. “I’ll give it to him tonight if he wants it. We have to find French now.” She couldn’t tell if it was just her imagination, but she swore that she could see Draco send her a slightly grateful look.

“AP French? Quelle coïncidence! I’m headed there too.”

No matter how briskly she dragged Draco along, Heather was able to catch up and chatter away, asking him about life in the UK and how he found Americans. She couldn’t help but allow a little smirk when he answered, telling her “a little annoying, quite frankly.”

French was even more insufferable than she was expecting it to be. The strict teacher, M. Smith (despite being more American than everyone in the room, yes, he did insist on being called Monsieur), coupled with the weird, forlorn glances Heather kept sending Draco made Y/N feel crushingly uncomfortable. With the way that Draco was fidgeting, she could guess that he felt the same way.

Suddenly, 2 couldn’t come soon enough.

<^>

“So, what’d you think?” Y/N asked as they made their way back to Y/N’s car. She toyed with her lanyard, turning and twisting the keys until they couldn’t twist anymore.

Draco stepped over to the passenger side door, waiting for her to press unlock. “Your friend Heather is very friendly.”

“She’s not my friend, Draco, I already told you that.”

“She certainly comes up to talk to you a lot for someone who isn’t your friend.”

She shifted into drive and began pulling out of the parking lot. “It’s an American thing. And plus, she wouldn’t be talking to me if I didn’t have a pretty boy with an accent living with me.”

Draco froze up, sending her a weird sideways look.

“Don’t be so overdramatic, kiddo,” she continued. “American girls go crazy for British accents. Trust me. There’s going to be so many girls throwing themselves at you come tomorrow that you won’t even know what to do with yourself.”

Y/N tried to keep the bitterness from creeping into her tone as she told Draco this. It wasn’t like she liked him or anything--no way--it was just frustrating to know that the moment he stepped foot on the school grounds tomorrow, he would be snapped up into a flurry of admirers. These few days had felt like she was keeping a delicate, sophisticated secret in the guest room in the hall over, but it was time for her to snap out of it.

“The feeling certainly isn’t mutual,” he finally said. Y/N could see that his head was rested against the window as he looked out into the trees as they passed by a particularly wooded area. “American accents give me a migraine.”

“Funny, me too.”

“But you have one.”

“Your point? Pass me the Advil.”

“The...the what?”

Y/N sucked in a deep breath and tried to keep herself from bursting out into a cackle. “Paracetamol, maybe? I think that’s the British version.”

“Er...I’m sorry?” Draco had moved his head from its resting place on the window to send her a confused look.

“Forget about it.”

The drive back was silent for the rest of the way. Upon arriving, Draco made a beeline for his room and made no indication of wanting to come back out, so Y/N spent the rest of the evening ironing out her physics problem sets and getting her backpack ready for school.

My last first day she thought to herself as she zipped her binders and pencil pouch up, a hint of nostalgia threatening to choke her up for a moment.

The entire situation felt eerie and strange. All her life, she’d been waiting to get out of school so she could go to college and meet new friends and have her fun life experiences, and now it was all beginning to happen. She tried to imagine how Draco must’ve been feeling in that moment and could hardly manage to come up with anything she could relate to. He’d been uprooted from his home, his family, his life, all to move to fucking Ohio of all places to finish out school. Y/N would feel a twinge of pity if he wasn’t such a prick.

Which, by the way, now that she really thought of it, was perhaps becoming overshadowed by all the little things she noticed about him. Obviously, he was very pretty, but there was something else just magnetizing about him that she’d never seen before in a person. The way in which he carried himself, the regal manner he spoke in, the delicate and practiced motions of his hands whenever he did anything menial--it all added up to paint Draco as the picture of elegance. She came to the realization that she’d never met anyone quite like him before as she was getting into bed and turning her lights off. He seemed so incredibly detached from reality, but decidedly so, that she couldn’t help but feel fascinated with it all.

And he was all hers to figure out for the next 9 months.

final a/n: huhhhh isn’t that funny that i actually came out with a different fic than i said i would? i think i want to do that quarantine thing a little bit later and make it a series. i’ve planned that i want to finish mirror, mirror in the coming weeks and then transfer to writing the “one shot” that was scheduled to be posted today as a series as well as this. exciting stuff to come!

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco #draco malfoy #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

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imanativeofswlondondahling · 4 years

Text

Becoming A Stark? (3) Peter Parker x Stark! FemReader

Word Count: 4848

Warnings: Swearing, mention of physical abuse of a child

A/N: Dinner with your two best friends and the Avengers, what could go wrong?

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

You had invited both Betty and Astrid for dinner, like Tony suggested. It had taken a lot of loose excuses to explain why you were picking them up instead of them just coming over and why your Nana and Pops wouldn’t be at dinner. But you and Betty had been best friends since kindergarten and Astrid had joined the two of you when she moved to New York in fourth grade, the three of you inseparable since then so they trusted you. But the idea of bringing your two best friends to the tower and introducing them to the Avengers and more importantly to Tony, that was a whole other thing. Plus Tony had mentioned that Pepper was going to be there, so you were meeting your dad’s girlfriend on top of everything. Tonight could possibly be the worst night of your life if everything goes to shit.

“Y/N, you ready to pick up Betty and Astrid?” Happy asks from the elevator in the living room.

“No.” You answer honestly as your sandal covered feet drag towards the elevator.

“It’s going to be great.” Bruce calls from the couch where he sits with Natasha.

“We’re excited to meet your friends.” Natasha adds.

“You’re not the one who has to explain that your life is over to your best friends.” You mumble. “Make sure Tony is at least presentable when we get back?”

“I’ll threaten him within an inch of his life if I have to.” Natasha promises. You wouldn’t honestly put it past her.

“And no inventions. This needs to go as normal as possible.” You add as Happy holds the elevator doors open for you.

“We’ll keep him out of the lab.” Bruce adds with a laugh. You run your hands over the skirt of your pastel pink dress, before walking into the elevator. The dress you chose for tonight is nicer than you’d normally choose for just dinner at home, but Astrid and Betty didn’t know the Tower was home, so you decided to at least put on a dress compared to the graphic t-shirt and shorts you had been wearing all day. This dress had buttons down the front, pleats, a collar, and a sash that tied around your waist. It was sleeveless, so you might get a bit cold, but Jarvis could always fix that if you did.

“It’s going to be alright. It’s just dinner with your friends and family.” Happy says from the other side of the elevator as the doors close.

“I don’t know if I’d call them family.” You say before asking Jarvis to take you down to the parking garage.

“They’d call you family.” Happy says before stepping off the elevator. You walk towards the black town car, thinking over the words he had said. Sure you were getting to know them all better and yes Tony was your biological father, but family? You’re not sure about that one. Happy opens the door for you to slide in. “Astrid or Betty first?”

“Betty is farther, so her first?” You suggest, before looking at your new phone you had gotten this morning. It was way too over the top, but seeing as it’s also top of the line, you can see why Tony would want you to be seen with it and not the phone you had for the past few years.

“Sounds like a plan.” Happy turns onto the street before looking towards you in the rear view mirror. “You want music?”

“Uh sure?”

“JARVIS can connect to your phone.”

“Jarvis is part of the car too?” You shouldn’t be surprised, but for some reason you find yourself surprised that he’s integrated into everything.

“He wouldn’t be Just A Rather Very Intelligent System if he wasn’t.”

“Wait, it's an acronym?” You ask, all this time just thinking it was a name like Wallace and Queenie are.

“Your dad is really into acronyms.” Happy gives you a small smile. “So music?”

“Uh JARVIS, can you play my Spotify playlist?”

“Sure which playlist Miss Y/N? June? I Hate Life? Tony Stark Can Rot?-” You cut him off before he says anything else.

“Play June JARVIS.” You close your eyes not wanting to make eye contact with Happy after JARVIS just told your dad’s security that you have a playlist called Tony Stark Can Rot.

“Secrets safe with my Y/N.” Happy says from the front seat as Under Pressure by Queen starts playing. He drives towards I-495E. Happy knows in a little more than a week, they’re going to be driving this twice a day to take Y/N to Midtown School of Science and Technology. It’s an almost hour drive round trip but Tony was adamant with everyone that Y/N not be moved from the school that all of her friends were going too. Happy is surprised to hear a lot of familiar music play through your playlist that normally plays through Tony’s. You may not have been anywhere near him growing up, but at least he’d be proud that you listened to the classics. Pulling up in front of the brown stone that was programmed into the GPS, Happy sees a blonde girl waiting in front of the building looking up and down the street, probably expecting Y/N to walk up at any point in time. Instead you open the door and call out to your best friend.

“Betty!” Her eyes open wide and stare at you. But she climbs into the car before asking all her questions.

“Y/N, holy cow! You never spring for like yellow cabs, so why did you get a town car? We could have even easily taken the subway like we do when we head into Manhattan.”

“It’s a long story, but I’m not the one paying for the car. I promise everything will be explained but can we wait until Astrid is here? I don’t want to explain everything twice.”

“Sure, of course! Have you finished the essay yet for English?”

“No, I'm still finishing the book.”

“You haven’t finished A Tree Grows in Brooklyn yet? Are you sick or something? You read faster than Astrid and I combined. Or did you spend more time on the science essay? Should I write more you think? I was thinking maybe I should do some more research about my favorite scientist. I mean there’s so much out there about Bruce Banner now since the whole Avenger saving New York thing. But I’ve already done two pages over what we're supposed to do. Who are you writing your paper on again?”

“Frederick Banting. Created insulin. Seemed important enough to get a paper about him.”

“Oh definitely. Look at Astrid’s dress, it is so cute! Not that yours isn’t!”

“It is cute.” You see your brunette friend waiting in a yellow sundress outside of her apartment building. You open the door, and see yet another surprised face at the town car.

“Ok, a town car. We’re fancy now?” Astrid asks as she climbs in with you and Betty.

“Apparently we are.” Betty says, still not knowing why you were in a town car.

“There is a crash on your route, so with traffic the drive will take 35 minutes, Happy and Miss Y/N.” Betty and Astrid look up in concern, trying to figure out where the voice is coming from.

“Thank you JARVIS.” Happy says, turning onto a side street.

“Is Jarvis like a GPS that happens to know your name?” Astrid asks looking at you wearily.

“Kind of? He’s more like an AI.”

“Why does the town car, which you’re not paying for, have an AI that knows your name?” Betty asks, more concerned.

“So the car is my dad’s along with the AI.”

“Your dad?” Astrid and Betty both repeat. They both have known you long enough to know that Nana and Pops had stepped into the role of parents before you could walk or talk.

“But I thought you had no idea who your dad was?” Betty asks.

“I didn’t. Not until a couple days ago and it kind of came out of nowhere. Long story short, I’m living with him and his, uh, family now.”

“But still in New York right? Like you’re still going to school with us right?” Astrid asks.

You nod as you say, “Yes. I’m just living in Midtown now and Happy here is going to drive me to and from school now for safety reasons.”

“For safety reasons?” Astrid asks as Betty voices her own question.

“What is your dad like a big somebody?”

“Yes.”

“To which?” Betty asks.

“To both.” You shrug. You really, really don’t want to say it. You beg the universe not to make you say it.

“Y/N, who is your dad?” The question you had been dreading leaves your friend’s mouth.

“Tony Stark.”

“Holy shit.”

“No way.”

“So you should win like every science fair that we have from here on out.”

“Science is still my least favorite subject.” You answer honestly. “Just because Tony is my father doesn’t change anything.”

“But you’re a Stark, that means like science flows through your blood.”

You motion towards Queenie, who’s clipped to your sash. “I think it’s like insulin. It’s supposed to but it doesn’t.”

“Wait, so if you’re taking us home for dinner, but your Nana and Pops won’t be there does that mean…” Betty trails off not wanting to jinx it.

“We’re going to the tower for dinner.” You confirm.

“Are the Avengers going to be there?” Astrid voices.

“I mean they live there and have eaten dinner with me every night so far.” You jokingly say. “And I figure they need to eat tonight too.”

“Hold on, I’m having dinner with Bruce Banner and you didn’t give me time to prep questions? This would have made my report so much better!” Betty’s head falls back to the headrest in defeat.

“Bett, I’m sure he’d be willing to answer anything you come up with. The Avengers are all really nice.”

“And Daddy Dearest?” Astrid asks.

“No comment.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“It’s not like he’s bad or anything. It’s just he came out of nowhere, took me from Nana and Pops’ and he doesn’t seem to understand that I can handle my diabetes on my own. He had JARVIS monitoring but like way higher than it needed to be. He had alerts set if I fell under 100 the other day.”

“You’ve known him how many days Y/N?” Betty asks.

“Three?”

“It’ll take some time. Plus once we’re back at school, you won’t have to spend as much time with him.”

“Thank god.” You say softly as Happy pulls the car into the tower’s garage. You know as soon as you get upstairs you’ll feel suffocated again, but your friends want to see the tower. So you tell JARVIS to take you upstairs. When you get to the living room though you’re surprised to only see one person waiting for you.

“Hi you must be Astrid, Betty. I’m Pepper.” The strawberry blonde standing in front of you turns to look at you suddenly and with a genuine smile on her face turns to look at you. “And you have to be Y/N. Tony hasn’t stopped talking about you since he found out about you. Which is a nice change of pace since he likes talking about himself if you haven’t found out, which I would find highly impossible. I can’t wait to get to know you through you though. I’m sorry we haven’t met until tonight. SI business has been all over the place with the transition and, well, everything.” She motions towards you. “But I’d like to take you out to maybe lunch or something where it’s just the two of us before you go back to school if you don’t mind?” This was not the reaction you were expecting from your father’s girlfriend.

“Uh, sure. Yeah we can do that.” You push a lock of hair over your shoulder trying to distract yourself with the nervous habit of playing with your hair.

“Great, I’ll give you my number before the night’s over and we can plan something.” She flashes you a huge smile. “Now Steve and Bruce are in the kitchen and I think Natasha is either distracting them or trying to keep Tony from sneaking down to the lab again. And Rhodey is just hanging out I think. I don’t know where Clint has snuck off too but he’ll reappear before dinner is on the table I’ll bet on it. Want to introduce your friends to them all?”

“I was going to take them up to my room but we could do passing introductions.” You agree, knowing that Betty will never let you hear the end of it if you don’t introduce her to Bruce sooner rather than later. “Kitchen is this way.” You motion for them to follow. As you walk into the kitchen there’s a booming laugh that you don’t recognize. Six pairs of eyes turn to fall upon you and your friends as you enter into the kitchen.

“Tonydaughter!” A large, muscled blonde man comes to scoop you into a hug.

“Point Break maybe wait until she knows you to scoop her into a hug.” Tony calls from the other side of the kitchen, a glass filled with a dark liquid in his hand.

“Ha, midgardians are so funny. She will be a better friend of mine than you are.” This man that you have to assume is Thor based on how he talks and acts, sets you down though. Even though you weren’t expecting the hug, it did feel nice after so many days of not having much human contact. “Who are these?”

“I’m Betty Brant, your highness sir.”

“I’m Astrid Stollas.” Astrid does a bit of a curtsy, not sure how to act around the god.

“Brantdaughter and Stollasdaughter, there is no need for these Earthy customs. But we do need to feast.” He raises his fist as if to command it.

“It’s still cooking, Thor.” Steve says from the stove.

“Can you wait twenty minutes?” Bruce asks and Betty’s eyes go wide.

“Betty, Astrid,you met Thor, but meet Steve, Natasha, Rhodey, Tony, and-”

“I know who you are.” Betty cuts you off before you can introduce Bruce. Bruce goes a bit pale and you have a feeling you know where his mind went and not where her’s actually did.

“Yes, I know I’m the Hul-”

“You’re the most renowned scientist of the generation. They painted you into the mural at our school.”

“What?” Bruce looks at her in confusion.

“I just finished my seven page research paper on you.”

“Looks like Brucy has a fangirl.”

“And who are you again?” You ask Tony, determined to not let him ruin Bruce’s moment.

“I am Iron Man.”

“But you’re not in a mural at a school for science and technology. Clearly not important.” Pepper wraps an arm around Tony’s waist as his jaw drops.

“Fix it.” He says to her.

“I’m not donating to your daughter’s school just so you can be in a mural.”

“But I want it.” Tony whines.

“Can’t have it.” Pepper throws back.

“Clearly unimportant.” You say with a shrug. “Astrid, Betty, do you want to see my room?”

“I’m good here.” Betty says, staring at Bruce. Astrid rolls her eyes and pulls Betty by the elbow towards where you are before following you up the stairs.

“She said I was unimportant.” Tony whines to Pepper.

“I think coming from a fourteen year old, you’ll be ok.”

“She’s not just any fourteen year old.” Tony says it and Pepper knows it's true. That girl is the only thing that Tony has talked about for the past four days.

“At least she was joking with you tonight.” Natasha points out as she steals some of the veggies from Steve’s cutting board. “After yesterday, she could have done way worse.”

“And she introduced us to her best friends.” A smile rises to Tony’s face.

“She did say science is her least favorite subject.” Happy says from the living room and Tony’s face falls again.

“She what?”

“Nothing boss.” Happy takes the elevator to his own floor, leaving them with their own messes to deal with for the night.

“Why is she going to a science and technology school if she hates science?” Tony asks Pepper.

“You’ll have to ask her. Or, you could wait until she talks to you about school.” Pepper says.

“Wow Y/N. Half your books aren’t even here yet and you already have so many new ones.” Betty says looking at your shelves that Tony had built the other day.

“I think Tony thinks he can bribe his way into my life with buying books. But it won’t work.” Astrid is standing over by your desk and notices that your sticker covered laptop is plugged in charging but there are some dark data screens, waiting to be used.

“Did he make you a data-”

“I don’t know. I refuse to use as much of his tech as possible. The only one I have to use is the Stark Phone.”

“Y/N, he’s offering you the latest and greatest in Stark tech and you’re just throwing it away to stick it to the man? I would kill for half the tech you have, including the AI.”

“Well if you can find a way to take it, you’re welcome to have it. I don’t want most of it.”

“Because it’s from him or because it’s by him.”

“Both.” Astrid and Betty look at you in confusion. “I was perfectly happy with my life in Queens, living with Nana and Pops and he just came and took me away without any choice. Then he shoves all this tech in my hands and expects me to be elated over all of it. That’s not me. That’s not what I do.”

“Of course it’s not. You would live in the 18th century romance novels as long as you could still rep your LGBT letters.” Astrid says and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Before any of you can say anything else, JARVIS comes over head.

“Dinner is ready Miss Y/N.”

“Why does he call you Miss Y/N? Everyone else is just their names?” Betty asks.

“I don’t know. I guess he was programmed that way.”

“Jarvis?” Betty calls out.

“Yes?”

“Can you call Y/N just Y/N?”

“Certainly.” She smirks at you as you roll your eyes.

“Come on, let’s get dinner over with.” You say rolling your eyes.

“It won’t be that bad.” Astrid promises as the three of you head towards your door.

“You’ve yet to have dinner with the Avengers.” You mumble as you walk them down towards the kitchen. The three open spots are between Pepper and Bruce and you know that Betty will kill you and Astrid if she doesn’t get to sit next to her favorite scientist, so the three of you end up sitting with Betty next to Bruce, where she will probably talk his ear off all night, Astrid in between you and Betty, with Pepper on your right. Tony is sitting on her other side, so it’s not like you can just ignore your dad all through dinner, but you can sure try.

“So you’re all going to be freshmen this year?” Pepper asks. It’s not a total surprise that she knows about your schooling since Natasha had mentioned that Tony had talked to her and Pepper about the situation. But hearing it actually come out of her mouth takes you by surprise. But Astrid saves the day in the end.

“Yup. We’re all starting at Midtown School of Science and Technology, much to Y/N’s chagrin. If we could go to a school where the focus is only reading and English instead, that would probably be her top choice.”

“Is English your favorite subject?” Pepper asks you and you nod, having just taken a bite of the pasta in front of you.

“It’s always been her favorite subject. If Betty hadn’t made her put her book down the first day I met them, I don’t think I would have gotten a word out of her. But then again, Harry Potter is addictive, so it makes sense.” You shoot Astrid a look, for spilling all the beans about you.

“Tony mentioned you were a reader. Something about his cards are buying more fiction then they probably ever have.” Pepper’s hand pats his as she throws a smile in his direction. “That’s probably a good thing. Some people in this place could take some breaks for reading every now and then.”

“That’s unfair. I do read.” Tony almost whines from next to her.

“Something other than manuals and physics books?” Pepper teases. Maybe this is what Natasha meant by she doesn’t put up with Tony’s shit? She calls him out on things? You can’t help but think to yourself as you watch the interaction. Her attention turns back to you. “What are you reading right now?”

“Once and Always.” Tony says as you give your own answer.

“For school or for fun?” Then you turn and look at him. “No, I’m not. I finished that like two days ago.”

“You weren’t even halfway done with it.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You shrug.

“How about both?” Pepper asks, returning to your question.

“I have to finish A Tree Grows In Brooklyn and write an essay on it before the end of the first week of school, so I’m working on that. And for fun, I just started Love, Simon. And I’m loving it.”

“What’s Love, Simon about?” Pepper seems genuinely interested, but do you tell her the plot and possibly out yourself in front of the all of the Avengers? Especially when some of them like Steve had lived in a time when being bi was really not ok?

“It’s a contemporary of sorts. It’s kind of better to go into it not knowing a lot.” You decide to skimp on explanations and play it safe.

“Well if it you end up enjoying it all the way through, let me know. I’m always looking for a good next read.” Pepper says with a smile.

“Uh sure.” You’re almost surprised that she’s interested in what you’re reading. Nana and Pops always supported you reading whatever you wanted, but they had their own genres to read.

“What do you think of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn?” Steve asks from across the table.

“Boring.” Astrid says with a smirk. “I skimmed enough of it to write my paper.”

“I like the writing style. That’s why I’m taking my time with it.” You admit. “If I really wanted to, I could sit down and finish it in a couple hours. It reminds me of my first time reading To Kill A Mockingbird.”

“If you like those you should give The Secret Lives of Bees and The Poisonwood Bible a try.” Steve suggests before taking a bite of his own plate of pasta.

“You’re just suggesting those because you love those. If she’s a reader she should go with some of the real classics. War and Peace. Anna Karenina. Real Russian novels.” Natasha suggests with her fork enunciating her words. Betty and Astrid can’t help but laugh. All the Avengers turn to look at the teenagers, who seem to be laughing at one of the world’s deadliest assassins. Astrid tries to stifle her giggles, but Betty falls silent.

“Sorry Miss Widow, it’s just Y/N has already read both and loved them. But she read them back a couple of years ago and the school got mad at her for not reading at grade level.” Tony turns to look at you.

“You got in trouble for reading a big Russian novel in middle school?”

“Elementary school.” You correct him. “They didn’t think a 1200 word novel was the right reading experience for a fifth grader.”

“Yeah I’m never going to doubt she’s Tony’s kid.” Clint says before stuffing some pasta in his mouth.

“You read War and Peace at ten?” Natasha asks. You think about it for a moment and then nod.

“Yeah and followed with Anna Karenina, A Confession, The Death of Ivan Ilych, and Resurrection. I went through a Leo Tolstoy phase at that point.” Your eyes drop to your plate as everyone else’s eyes are on you. You push some of the veggies around your plate.

“Our teacher, Mr. Balton, hated it because he couldn’t get mad at Y/N because she was still getting all of her work done and she had the highest grades in our class. Even tried to say she was a distraction to the rest of the class, but when she’s just silently reading, he doesn’t have any pull. He even threw her book across the classroom one day, because he was pissed that she was reading so far above her grade level. And instead of exploding at him, Y/N stood up, walked across the room, picked up the book, sat back down, flipped it back open to where she was and started reading again.”

“Your teacher threw your book?”

“He wasn’t the greatest. It was public school.” You shrug, as Astrid had just explained one of the roughest school years of your life. Mr. Balton tried to make your life a living hell.

“I’m going to find him and-” Tony mutters.

“He got fired.” Betty adds. “He had issues with a lot of the students and was very prone to throwing things.” Betty pauses, and you can almost hear the story she’s not telling. Your head pops up and you catch her eyes. “Anyway…” She turns to change the subject.

“Betty you’re not going to tell the story that got him fired?” Astrid says around a mouthful of pasta and your hand flies over her mouth.

“I don’t think we need to share that story.”

“I think we definitely do.” Tony’s voice comes from the other side of Pepper, firm and less teasing than other nights at dinner.

“Betty, why don’t you tell us about your science paper?” You suggest, knowing that if Tony hears the story, someone will blow a gasket. Most likely him. It shows how badly the public schooling system was, and Pops and Nana had already blown a fuse over it. You didn’t need Tony Stark getting upset over something that happened four years ago.

“I’m more interested in learning about what got your teacher fired.” Tony repeats. “Astrid?”

“I’m good Mr. Stark. I don’t think I was even there the day it happened.” Astrid says before pushing some pasta into her mouth.

“Betty?”

“I’m not even sure which incident you’re talking about sir.” If anything, your two best friends would have your back no matter what. The rest of the table has gone silent. Tony could go into a rage over things that had happened last week. They all had suspicions based on the fact that you wouldn’t let your friends tell the story. If it was something from four years ago that you were worried about him losing it over, you probably had good reason to be worried.

“Y/N?”

“Tony?”

“How did your teacher get fired.” His words come out harsh.

“Why do you really want to know?” You challenge.

“I think you know exactly why I want to know.”

“Tony, is now really the time?” Pepper asks, a hand draping over his.

“Pep-”

“Fine, you really want to know. This is why.” You pull your hair back to show a six inch scar that is hidden by your hair normally.

“What the hell is that.”

“That is what happens when someone throws scissors across a classroom at your head.”

“He threw scissors? At your head?” Tony’s words are spoken through a clenched jaw.

“He did. And had you been there, you could have joined Nana and Pops in their outrage. But four years ago you were off doing your own thing. So… moving on.” You lift your fork to your lips as the rest of the room barely breathes.

“Why?” Tony’s words are almost silent.

“Why what?”

“Why did he throw scissors at you?”

“Because I was reading. I was reading Resurrection and he said no kid my age should be reading a 500 page book while there are kids who could barely do their multiplication tables. And he wanted to make his point. And the closest thing to him was a pair of scissors.”

“I’ll make sure he can never teach again.”

“He can’t. At least not in the state of New York. I doubt anywhere else either. He assaulted a minor. That goes on like police record shit.”

“I should have been there.”

“You didn’t know.” You try to be more mature than you feel in this moment. “You are now. Next time something happens. You’ll be there, I hope.”

“I will.” His arm wraps around Pepper to grasp your shoulder. “I’m here for you from now on.”

tags: @persephonehemingway @iamaunicorn4704 @furiouspockettoad @daughter-of-stark @eternalharry @huntective-kyeo

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teenytinystorage · 4 years

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Can you make a fanfic with Logan and Deceit only talking in memes

Hi!! so I don’t think this is exactly what you wanted... but I love them Brain Cell Bois so i hope you enjoy!!

•——•

Vocab Cards

Summary: Logan is very much Struggling with learning new slang, but who decides to actually help the Disaster Nerd but the slimy snake boy Deceit? Welp, this’ll be interesting.

Word Count: 1,291

Warnings: one (1) “not wanting to hurl” mention, implied body horror

Genre: Fluff?? Probably?

Pairings: Platonic/Romantic Loceit

“You know,” Deceit quipped, staring down at his gloved fingers as he stood in front of the camera and to the left of Logan, “you’re not very good at those.”

“At what?” Logan responded quickly, stuffing his “LOL” vocabulary card back into his jeans pocket as the other sides watched the two banter.

“Those vocabulary cards! Oh, you ‘ought to have someone teach you this stuff,” Deceit flicked his tongue at his teeth, “Who am I kidding, I’d even write some cards for you at this point,” he snickered before turning to Thomas. “But Thomas--”

So then, Deceit knows some slang, Logan thought, Deceit’s wittiness still ringing in his ears even after the video ended and the sides each dispersed into their respective rooms.

He sat at his computer, typing and retyping LOL into UrbanDictionary to make sure that, yes, his card was right, LOL was an acronym that stood for “laughing out loud” and he had his definition right on the card.

He even used it the right way too. He said, “Thomas, this is not a LOL matter.”

That’s the right usage. Sure it messed up the phrase “laughing matter” up a bit, but it was hip, so it didn’t matter too much.

So why was it so badly received? Did Deceit really know more about this whole slang deal than he did?

I’d even write some cards for you at this point, Deceit had said earlier.

Hm. Hmmm. Hm indeed.

Logan could use the outside perspective, in his opinion. He knew it wasn’t reliable to have only one source on anything, but for slang, he could never find any other “reliable sources” (HUGE air quotes on that, UrbanDictionary was in no way a college-research-paper-worthy site) but one; everything else just made no sense and was contradictory and confusing.

Maybe conferring with a knowledgeable colleague on the subject could be useful? That always helped with the scientific method. And Logan was basically going into this whole trend thing blind anyways, so it wasn’t like any conversation between them could hurt.

This line of thinking led Logan to stand from his seat, stuff a few blank index cards into his pockets and a ballpoint pen in there too for good measure. He gave one final adjustment of his glasses before sinking down into the classy snake-faced side’s room.

Deceit, sitting on his couch, engrossed in a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, gave a glance and then a double-take of Logan before sighing heavily and shutting his book.

“Ep ep ep--” Deceit held his pointer finger up in the air, “before you ask, yes, Remus did your little project and confirmed that we can regenerate limbs. And before you ask, no, I did not ask how he found it out because I didn’t care nor did I want to hurl today.”

“I actually came here to-- wait, really?” Logan responded, surprised, taking out an index card and quickly jotting down the findings. “Fascinating.”

“It’s ickier to me than it is fascinating, no cap,” Deceit complained as he smoothed the fringe peeking out from his hat. “But it’s your research and not mine, so go off, I suppose.”

Then Logan, upon hearing Deceit’s confusing phrases about hats and/or glacial structures and his encouragement for Logan to keep researching and/or to leave (slang was so confusing), remembered what he came here for in the first place.

“Right, Deceit,” Logan stuffed his index card of findings into his pants pocket, adding, “Earlier today I used a slang term that I believe stands for ‘laughing out loud,’ but your reaction implied to me that I may have been incorrect in the context of its usage. Would you care to elaborate on that?” Logan asked, clicking the pen in his pocket a few times as he spoke.

Deceit lounged back on the couch and held the back of his head in his hands. “Cssssertainly. You should totally use acronyms as if they’re the actual words they stand for, it definitely isn’t cringe-worthy at all.”

Logan, bewildered at the fact that Deceit even decided to answer his query (or humor him, more likely), quickly filed the information into his brain. “Oh. Oh, okay. And would you be willing to maintain your offer of assisting me with inscribing more vocabulary cards?”

“I hope you realize that was just some quick and witty charm of mine,” Deceit hummed. “You do take things very seriously though. That’s just your vibe.”

Logan’s expression faltered a bit. “Oh.”

Deceit paused, glancing his eyes up at the ceiling irritatedly before looking back at Logan. “You know what? If it keeps you from committing any other word atrocities such as the one today, then sure, I’ll help.”

“Really?” Logan replied just barely before he sank out and perused the internet for at least four hours for new slang terms on his own. “You would?”

“Sure. But I’m not a meme connoisseur by any means, I leave that to the raccoon. I’ll still try my best, though.”

It was relatively quiet in Deceit’s room after Deceit’s initial lecturings, including “never describe emojis out loud in words” and “for the love of your nonexistent mother, please never use ‘periodt’ like it’s actual punctuation.”

“So was it Lebanese or lesbian?” Logan asked, scribbling on another index card and laying stomach-down on the floor.

“It was lesbian,” Deceit said, sitting vertically and upside-down on the couch with his head almost on the floor and his hat barely hanging onto his head.

“Ah,” Logan commented, finishing the card. “Is the humor supposed to arise from the child thinking the camera-lady said Lebanese instead of lesbian, which conflicts with her allegedly American nationality?”

“No one knows,” Deceit answered.

“Ah, of course,” Logan replied, setting the card into a now growing stack of finished terms.

The two kept writing.

“Ok, here’s a test,” Deceit said a few minutes later, turning to Logan. “And they were roommates.”

Logan took a second before responding, monotonously, that is, “Oh my god, they were roommates.”

Deceit nodded his head in surprise. “You’re getting good at this.”

“You think so?” Logan asked, a small sense of accomplishment seeping into him.

“Well you’re certainly better than the LOL matter from before,” Deceit commented, chuckling.

Soon the next video had already started before Logan knew it.

“But doesn’t it seem like the right thing to do here is help?” Patton asked, twiddling his fingers together.

Thomas sighed.

“Well, I think that y’all’d’ve a bit of patience for Thomas. His vibes are a bit whack at the moment, no cap,” Logan interjected, still in his monotone voice.

The sides, and Thomas as well, stared at Logan in disbelief.

“What?” Logan peered around the room.

“Where did you learn all that?” Virgil asked, jaw hanging open and eyes wide.

“Deceit taught me a bit more about slang so I don’t inspire any more cringe-fests for you all.”

“Weird flex, but okay,” Deceit replied, rising up next to Logan.

“Agh!! Can you just leave— him—” Virgil shot a glare at Deceit, “—out of this??” Virgil pleaded, now irritated and growling under his breath. “I’ve already had my fair share of sleep-paralysis demons for today.”

“Quite uncommon for the Protohype to be so well-versed in lingo,” Roman mused. “But alas, go forth I proclaim.”

“Yeah, good work Logan, but what is Deceit doing here again?” Thomas asked, to which Patton replied: “Yeah, I think Thomas has his mind pretty well made up on this decision already!”

“Oh please,” Deceit started.

Logan couldn’t help but, for a moment, revel in his success, before, of course, going back to being the coolest cool teacher cool guy in the entire Thomas-sphere.

What a nice thing it is to learn, isn’t it?

#people really do be liking loceit after not liking it for a while huh?#(its me im people)#i love... the Boys.... 💛💙#sanders sides #deceit sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #loceit #platonic loceit #romantic loceit #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus mention

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